And the Wild Iris Blooms
by Totoro216
Summary: Iris Liriiette, a young Breton who stumbles into the whole Dragonborn business, wants nothing to do with the title. To continue running from her destiny, she takes up with the Thieves Guild and, quickly, uncovers a devious plot. As if that wasn't enough to weigh her down, a certain Nord thief won't seem to stay out of her thoughts. (Rated M for language)
1. Chapter 1

**I'm back! This time with a new Dragonborn. I just started replaying Skyrim recently and was taken aback at Brynjolf's accent. Damn. Anyway, so I've decided to create a new Dragonborn and see how her story plays out with the Thieves Guild. I'm really excited to start this new story since I haven't published a fanfic since I finished Blackheart (if you like the Avengers and Skyrim mixed together you should read it! *wink*). So, here we go! The story of Iris Liriiette.**

 ****Disclaimer: All characters (Except for Iris) are property of Bethesda****

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 _"..._ _And the Wild Iris Blooms By itself in the dark forest._ _"_

* * *

"You want me to lead?" Iris's nose crinkles in confusion, her violet eyes narrowing as she fiddles with the moonstone ring on her index finger. "Why?"

Mercer turns his icy glare on her slim figure, trembling slightly in the harsh, frigid winter air. "I was under the impression that I was giving the orders," he sneers, readjusting his grip on his golden sword. "You're leading, and I'm following. Does that seem clear to you?"

Sighing softly under her breath, Iris turns back toward the ancient stone door, rolling her eyes and unsheathing her Elven sword. "Fine. Fine. Let's just find Karliah and get this over with," she mutters, wishing she could blow her cover and _Fus Ro Dah_ him against the wall.

"Just make certain you keep your eyes open. Karliah is as sharp as a blade," he continues.

She opens the great stone door, creeping into the darkened chamber and wishing more than ever that Brynjolf could have joined the two of them on this journey to find the ex-Thieves Guild member. Though, she admits, she probably wouldn't be on her guard if he had; Bryn had a way of distracting her like no one else could. Shaking her thoughts away, the petite Breton forces herself to refocus on the mission at hand. Find Karliah. And try not to kill Mercer along the way. One would think he'd be grateful for all that she's found out. She was the one who completed the Goldenglow job. She was the one who found out about Galum-Ei. And she was the one who found out about Karliah trying to dismantle the Guild. And did she hear Mercer thanking her for it? No. The complete opposite. She remembers making eye contact with Bryn from across the Cistern when Mercer was chewing her out. He gave her a sort of pitiful look before shrugging, almost saying "What are you going to do about it? It's just Mercer being Mercer." _Just Mercer being an asshole_ , Iris had thought bitterly. She had managed to hold her tongue, and, more importantly, her Voice. Gods know that would be a disaster if the Guild found out about that.

"She's already been here," Mercer says, his voice echoing throughout the stone room as he points to a poorly concealed trap. "Even reset the traps. Watch your step."

Iris holds her breath, readying herself for the insults she knows Mercer is about to hurl her way.

"Pay attention, and don't walk right into a trap. The last thing we need is a damned initiate giving away our presence and ruining our chance of finding Karliah. Your usual blundering around won't work for this."

Seething, Iris tightens her grip on her sword, summoning flames to her hand. "My so-called blundering got me through Goldenglow," she gets out through gritted teeth.

"Not without alerting half the mercenaries to your presence first."

Damn it. He's right. When she went to light the hives on fire, her invisibility potion wore off. She had timed it all wrong and barely got out of there alive, but not before lighting three hives on fire. The job was done, but she almost didn't make it. But she did. And that's what matters, right?

If it weren't for his amazing swordsmanship, Iris probably would have killed him in the dragging moments of their time in Snow Veil Sanctum. His constant jabs and insults were grinding her patience away to practically nothing. She was quickly getting exhausted. The constant Draugr popping up was starting to get on her nerves, and she had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep in her Thu'um at one point. It'd be so much easier if she could just use them.

"Be careful," Mercer sneers, pointing to the door ahead. "This could be the perfect spot for an ambush."

 _Then why am I going first?_ she wants to ask. But she holds her tongue and carefully swings the door open. Right as the wooden panels strike the stone walls behind them, the unmistakable sound of two Draugr breaking out of their sarcophaguses rings throughout the ancient air. Iris readies her sword, watching as they make their way down the ramp to her and Mercer's level. She widens her stance, ready to fend off the first attack when she hears it. Soft, powerful chanting, raising the hairs on the back of her neck and sending a shiver down her spine. A Word Wall. The dragon inside her roars, longing, aching to absorb the new Word. Though she cannot see the Wall, she feels its pull, her vision blurring around the edges as everything else falls into the shadows.

Even the sword that strikes her cheek when the Draugr finally reach them.

She falls sideways, completely taken off-guard, and hits her head, hard, on the stone floor.

"Get up and help me!" Mercer shrieks at her.

Disoriented by the blow to her head and the Word still calling, she stumbles to her feet, falling against the wall. Her violet eyes raise, and she spots it. Her lips part in a silent gasp, her sword dangles from her fingers, as her feet begin to take her toward the chanting. Mercer's voice falls into the background, the clashing of swords no longer holding her attention as the chanting of her ancestors grows louder, filling her ears as the Word glows brightly in the Wall. She gasps when the Word begins to flow into her, the blue light absorbed into her very soul, the new Thu'um on her lips.

" _Zun_ ," she Whispers, her Voice rumbling the ground. But her reverie shatters when Mercer's shrill voice reaches her ears, replacing the beautiful chanting.

"What in Oblivion was that?"

She whirls around to find him positively fuming.

"I just fought off four Draugr while you ran off to do who knows what!" He takes a step toward her, briefly glancing at the Wall behind her before getting in her face. "Not only that, you completely ignored me and walked away. Need I remind you that I am your Guildmaster? Next time you disobey my orders, I won't hesitate to have you disbanded from the Guild."

She sighs softly, rubbing her eyes. "Are you done?" She can't help it.

But she flinches back in shock when his hand encircles her arm, squeezing tightly. "I've only kept you on because Brynjolf believes you're an asset to the Guild. If it were up to me, you would have been gone immediately after he brought you to me."

"Then why am I still here?" she challenges him, trying to appear unperturbed though his grip on her arm pains her immensely.

"Because whether I like it or not, you brought a lot of important matters to my attention. You may be a poor thief, but you stumbled upon the whole dealing with Karliah. We've been looking for her for ages, and you were the one who finally found her. Now just don't muck it up." He pushes her away from him before stalking off through the Sanctum.

Muttering angrily, Iris rubs her arm, readjusting her grip on her sword, and takes the lead. They continue onward for what feels like years to Iris. She dodges Draugr, traps, and more Draugr all the while listening to Mercer berate her for everything she does. Once, he even yells at her for shooting flames onto the oil-slicked ground, killing three Draugr at once, mind you. She somehow manages to keep the protests bubbling past her lips; she's going to have a field day with this when she sees Brynjolf next. Poor thing, he's always the one she goes to when she needs to rant about Mercer. Actually, he's the one she goes to for nearly everything, save the Dragonborn business. He's a damn good listener.

Finally, the two thieves come to a puzzle door, nearly identical to the ones which require a claw to open. Iris curses under her breath. She doesn't remember seeing a claw anywhere. She's about to suggest to Mercer that they go look for it when he strides up to the door.

"Ah, it's one of the infamous Nordic puzzle doors. How quaint," he scoffs. "Without the matching claw, they're normally impossible to open. And since I'm certain Karliah already did away with it, we're on our own." He strides up to the door and begins to fiddle with the lock. "Fortunately, these doors have a weakness if you know how to exploit it. Quite simple, really."

She rolls her eyes. Maybe she'll ask him how he does it. That would save her lots of time when hunting for the Dragon Priest masks.

"There. Karliah's close. I'm certain of it. Now, let's get moving." The door lowers into the ground, stone grinding on stone and dust puffing through the air, getting caught in her light brown hair. She half-expects him to go ahead and walk into the room, but he glares at her, unmoving. "Ladies first."

She huffs, annoyed, as she crosses the threshold. "I still don't understand why—" But she doesn't get to finish because a sudden burst of pain in her chest lights up the dark chamber. She barely gets to glance down at the arrow in her chest before she collapses onto the cold, stone ground, her vision tinged green. She means to call out to Mercer, about to ask him to get the damn arrow out of her right clavicle, when she realizes her lips won't respond to her wishes. She tries to get to her feet, tries to roll off her side, tries move her arm, but her body won't respond. She's completely frozen, paralyzed, lying on the cold ground, watching helplessly as Mercer confronts the shadow that has stepped out from behind the wall. The shadow who, Iris suspects, is the cause of the arrow protruding from under her collarbone and her paralysis.

"Do you honestly think your arrow will reach me before my blade finds your heart?" Mercer spits as the Dunmer woman reveals herself.

"Give me a reason to try," the woman states clearly, briefly glancing at the fallen Breton paralyzed on the ground.

Mercer scoffs. "You're a clever girl, Karliah. Buying Goldenglow Estate and funding Honningbrew Meadery was inspired."

Karliah leans into her hip. "To ensure an enemy's defeat, you must first undermine his allies. It was the first lesson Gallus taught us."

Iris strains to move while Mercer is distracted, but her body still won't respond. All she can do is watch the exchange before her, internally groaning with pain.

"You always were a quick study."

"Not quick enough, otherwise Gallus would still be alive."

Mercer laughs, his face twisting. "Gallus had his wealth and he had you. All he had to do was look the other way."

"Did you forget the Oath we took as Nightingales? Did you expect him to simply ignore your methods?" Karliah asks, her voice rising in volume.

"Enough of this mindless banter!" Mercer shouts; Iris would have flinched in surprise if she could move. "Come, Karliah. It's time for you and Gallus to become reunited!" He draws his swords, facing her.

But Karliah shakes her head. "I'm no fool, Mercer. Crossing blades with you would be a death sentence. But I can promise the next time we meet, it will be your undoing." Before Mercer can react, Karliah downs an invisibility potion, disappearing from view.

Growing with frustration, Mercer sheathes his swords. Iris's mind spins from all that she's learned. Mercer killed Gallus. Not Karliah. He's been lying to the Guild this whole time! She strains to lift a finger. She has to get back to the Guild and warn them. She prays to every God she can think of, praying that Mercer will forget her lying there on the cold ground.

But he turns to face her paralyzed figure, his eyes roving across her small immobilized frame.

"How interesting," he sing-songs, stepping toward her. "It appears Gallus's history has repeated itself. Karliah has provided me with the means to be rid of you, and this ancient tomb becomes your final resting place."

She wants to scream, plead, anything to tell him that he can't kill her. Not unless he wants to kill the only person standing in the way of Alduin's reign. But all she can do is watch as he draws his golden sword, using the tip to trace her cheek.

"But do you know what intrigues me the most?" He waits for a moment, taunting her inability for speech. "The fact that this was all possible because of you." He chuckles softly when he draws blood from the skin of her cheek. "Farewell. I'll be certain to give Brynjolf your regards."

Terrified, Iris watches helplessly as he readies his sword, hovering over the side of her abdomen, a spot where if stabbed, she knows, she won't recover. A tear drips from her immobile eye, her heart pounding in her chest. Gods, she doesn't want to die. She can't leave like this. She can't leave Bryn like this.

Mercer jerks his hand, the pain splitting through her side lagging a second after she sees the motion. Her scream of pain is swallowed up by her paralysis as her world lights up crimson, feeling the warmth of her own blood being spilled on the stones. She can't even drag herself to safety. She's losing blood, and fast. But Mercer only watches her for a moment before wiping his blade and stepping over her body, leaving her to die. The pain twists around her heart and squeezes, blinds her, until the Gods grant her mercy, and she finally falls into the darkness.

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 **Yay! I'm so excited to be starting a new fic with you all! Please favorite, follow, and review!**

 **Also, the beautiful line at the beginning is from a poem written by Rumi. I thought it went well with Iris's character. And, don't worry; Brynjolf will appear in the next chapter!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi, everyone! Wow, I'm so surprised to have gotten so many follows and favorites already! I forgot to mention this in the first chapter, but I'm planning to update every Friday. With** ** _Blackheart_** **I was supposed to update every week, and that never happened. But I already have a lot of this story written, so I should be able to update every week! I'll give you guys a heads up if anything changes. Thanks for reading!**

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"Did she say where they were going?" Brynjolf asks Sapphire.

"For the hundredth time, no, she did not. I just saw her speaking with Mercer, and then they both left. I don't know where they went." Sapphire sighs. "Why do you care anyway? They've only been gone for a few days."

"I know, but…something doesn't feel right." He doesn't know what it is, and he knows it sounds cryptic but it's true. Ever since he stepped into the Cistern shortly after they left, there was an unsettling feeling in his stomach. He knows Iris loathes Mercer; he knows she would have hated traveling with him, but that doesn't explain the feeling in his gut.

"Did you hear what they were saying before they left?" he asks his fellow thief.

Sapphire nods to the ladder. "Why don't you ask them yourself?"

Brynjolf whirls around, spotting the Guildmaster climbing down the ladder. He waits with bated breath to find the Breton lass in tow, but no one else appears. He hurries to Mercer, who looks weary and irritable.

"Where were you?"

"My journey was fine, thank you," Mercer sneers tiredly. "Gather everyone. I…have news."

Brynjolf hates the forlorn look on Mercer's face and doesn't budge. "What is it?"

"Get everyone first. I'm telling everyone at the same time."

But Brynjolf still doesn't move. "Where's Iris?"

"Brynjolf."

The unsettling feeling in his stomach moves to his chest, his breathing becoming shallow as he stiffly tells everyone to gather around Mercer's little corner. Once everyone stands around his table, Mercer finally begins to speak.

"I know Iris and I left fairly quickly, without explaining it to anyone, but the reason for our journey was time sensitive. We tracked down Karliah's whereabouts. She was the one trying to tear our Guild apart, and we were intending to confront her once and for all." Mercer leans on his table. "We tracked her to Snow Veil Sanctum, the very place where she killed Gallus all those years ago. I had hoped she would be rational and would finally answer for her crime against the Guild but things got very out of hand very quickly and…" Mercer meets Brynjolf's eyes, frowning. "Karliah—she…she killed Iris."

A roaring fills Brynjolf's ears, panic clenching his stomach, despair eating his heart. No, she can't be dead. Not Iris. Not strong, sassy, clever Iris. Not his Iris.

"I did everything I could but…" Mercer trails off. "I'm sorry."

No. Not Iris. Gods, please. His entire world begins to crumble before his eyes. His Iris, his beautiful, alluring Iris is dead. His fists clenching, Brynjolf knows he has to get out of there before he does something he'll regret. But why would it matter? His voice of reason, his new muse, his Iris is dead. He whirls around, not caring about the eyes on his back as he hurries up the ladder and out into Riften. She can't be gone. No, not her. Stumbling out of the city gates, he continues on, blindly, needing to move. He'll go there himself. Snow Veil Sanctum. He'll discover the truth. She can't be dead, Gods, please, Iris can't be dead. A strangled cry slips past his lips before he realizes the wetness on his cheeks. His legs finally give out from underneath him; he falls onto the ground, his hand falling into the water. That's what he gets for getting attached. In a roundabout way, he killed her. He convinced her to join the Guild. He gave her a taste of what the Guild had to offer and convinced her to join. And where did it lead her? His face falls into his hands, suffused with guilt. He was her killer. And, he vows, he will never forgive himself.

* * *

Iris's eyelashes flutter as she struggles to regain consciousness, gasping loudly when the pain slams into her. A pitiful cry squeezes past her lips as she strains to focus on her surroundings.

"Easy, easy. Don't get up so quickly," a voice urges her before a hand appears on her lower back, helping her to sit up slowly. "How are you feeling?"

Iris's vision finally clears, and she finds Karliah in front of her eyes, the Dunmer's face furrowed in worry.

"You…you shot me," Iris's hoarse voice accuses her.

Karliah shakes her head. "No, I saved your life. My arrow was tipped with a unique paralytic poison. It slowed your heart and kept you from bleeding out. Had I intended to kill you, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Iris winces against the throbbing pain in her side. "Why did you save me?"

Karliah's red eyes spot the Breton's hand pressed against her abdomen, and she frowns. "My original intention was to use that arrow on Mercer, but I never had a clear shot. I made a split second decision to get you out of the way, and it prevented your death."

"You should have shot Mercer instead." Iris shudders, her mind's eye replaying her moment of futility when all she could do was watched as she was about to be 'killed'.

"I promise you, the thought crossed my mind. The poison on that arrow took me a year to perfect; I only had enough for a single shot. All I had hoped was to capture Mercer alive."

Iris scoffs lightly. "Why capture him alive?" All she wants to do is Shout him off the Throat of the World.

"Mercer must be brought before the Guild to answer for what he's done. He needs to pay for Gallus's murder."

Iris shudders in pain, tightening her grip on her stomach wound. "How will you prove it now? He got away."

Karliah glances behind her at the snow-covered burial mound. "My purpose in using Snow Veil Sanctum to ambush Mercer wasn't simply for irony's sake. Before both of you arrived, I recovered this journal from Gallus's remains." She shows Iris a leather-bound book. "I suspect the information we need is written inside."

"What does it say?"

Karliah sighs. "I wish I knew. The journal is written in some sort of language I've never seen before."

Iris glances at the journal. "Do you know someone who could translate it?"

Karliah's eyes brighten as she watches Iris. "Enthir…Gallus's friend at the College of Winterhold. Of course…It's the only outsider Gallus trusted with the knowledge of his Nightingale identity."

Iris furrows her eyebrows. "Nightingale?"

Karliah nods. "There were three of us. Myself, Gallus, and Mercer." She practically spits his name. "We were an anonymous splinter of the Thieves Guild in Riften. Perhaps I'll tell you more about it later. Right now, you need to focus on recovering so you can go to Winterhold with the journal and get the translation." She points to the bandage around Iris's stomach. "Mercer's sword was dipped in some kind of poison that keeps the wound from healing. I've been working on an antidote. You should be good to go in a few days."

"Can't you just go?" Iris asks, doubling over in pain.

"I'm afraid not. There are preparations to make and Gallus's remains to lay to rest. Plus, who would look after you?"

"I'm fine," she mutters, peering down at the bandage and absentmindedly twisting the moonstone ring on her finger.

"Interesting ring," Karliah points out before glancing at the sky, noting the sun's position. "It's about time I change the bandage." She pulls out a wooden bowl. "I've been putting a salve on it for now, but I really need to find the last ingredient for the antidote."

Iris cringes when Karliah peels the bandage back, revealing burnt-looking flesh curled up around the edges of the stab wound. It's going to scar for sure.

"It looked worse three days ago," Karliah comments nonchalantly.

"What? Three days ago? How long was I unconscious?" Iris bursts out.

"Four days. I had to keep you under. The poison would have been unbearable if you were conscious. I managed to heal it somewhat before waking you up."

Iris begins to hunt for her things, her eyes roving around the makeshift camp. "I have to get back. They're probably worried about me." _One person in particular,_ she thinks.

"I wouldn't do that. Mercer's made it back by now, and what do you think he'll do when he sees you're still alive and know everything?" Karliah puts her hand on Iris's arm. "Besides, he's no doubt told everyone you're dead now."

Oh, Gods. That means Brynjolf thinks she's dead. Her violet eyes fill with unshed tears, and she tries to blink them away.

"What am I supposed to do then?"

"Rest up. Go to Winterhold. We'll make things right with Mercer and the Guild soon enough." Karliah dabs some salve on the wound as Iris flinches in pain.

"Don't you have any health potions?" she chokes out through the burning sensation of the salve absorbing into her torn flesh.

"I already tried using those. They don't work on something like this. Whatever Mercer poisoned his blade with is very unique and very rare." She finishes redressing it. "Lie down. Rest. I'm going to go look for some nightshade."

"What if someone comes?"

"Can you shoot a bow?"

Iris nods.

"Here." Karliah hands a wooden bow and a few arrows to Iris.

"Thank you. For everything."

"Hush now. Try to get some sleep." Once Iris is laying down, Karliah closes the tent flaps, hiding her from view.

Iris shifts uncomfortably, trying to ignore the stinging of her stab wound and the aching of her heart. Bryn thinks she's dead. Her best friend thinks she's dead. She can only hope he hasn't gone off and done something stupid.

* * *

"Brynjolf, are you sure you want to take this job?" Vex asks the Nord, crossing her arms and watching him skeptically.

"I need to do something, Vex," he replies, his voice dark, the shadows under his eyes as prominent as ever.

Everyone knows he hasn't been handling Iris's death very well. He's been trying to busy himself with tons of miscellaneous jobs, taking every job offered just for something to do. Vex suspects he thinks keeping busy and keeping his grief at bay will somehow make it easier. She suspected something had been going on between the two of them, ever since he convinced her to join the Guild. Vex opposed at first. Letting a stranger come right into the Guild just because she did a successful reverse pickpocket? Vex suspected Iris's looks had something to do with her quick initiation. Not to mention her carefully concealed innuendos and flirtations. Vex appreciates a good schmoozer, a good flirt, but only when it's being used for a job. When it's being used on one of her closest friends? Vex learned to be wary around Iris soon after. But then she went and completed the Goldenglow job almost perfectly, when she herself had almost died there. Vex had to hand it to her; she was a damn good thief. Iris had such a natural talent for manipulation and persuasion. If she was caught, though she never was, Vex had a feeling she'd be able to talk her way out of it. Vex mourns Iris for her amazing contribution to the Guild. Ever since she was brought in, the coin began to flow and they were beginning to be feared again. Iris was a beneficial asset to the Guild, for sure. And she made Brynjolf happy.

Iris and Brynjolf had gone on a few jobs together, and each time they came back, they seemed even closer. Vex saw the way they eyed each other in the Cistern. They were nearly inseparable. Her suspicions were only enforced when she witnessed how Brynjolf reacted to Iris's death. She'd never seen him so filled with despair. He's been trying to hide it, but it's just been pouring out of him.

Vipir and Rune are getting worried that he'll snap soon. He's going to trip up eventually; his mind is so preoccupied with his grief, that he's bound to muck something up sooner or later. Which is why Vex is trying to convince him to let Sapphire take the Winterhold job.

"Really, Brynjolf, you should take a break. You've been running yourself ragged ever since…" she trails off, not wanting to bring it up so bluntly.

"Vex, I need this. It's easy. A simple sweep job. I can do it," he continues to plead.

Vex sighs. "We're starting to worry about you, you know. We're worried something's going to happen and—"

"Nothing's going to happen."

"We think you need some time off. You know, collect your thoughts, rejuvenate yourself."

"And you think that's going to help?" he sneers very unlike himself.

The blonde sighs again. "I don't know what will help. Maybe nothing will. Listen. I'll give you the Winterhold job but only if you promise to take a small break afterward. Rent a room up there. Breathe in the cold air. Let it clear your mind." She pauses. "I don't want you to put the Guild at risk, Brynjolf. You know you haven't been yourself lately. And we can _not_ afford to be distracted. Not at a time like this." She builds up enough courage to place a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry about Iris, but she wouldn't want you to be reacting like this."

He slaps her hand from his arm, stalking past her. "I'll have a courier sent when it's done."

She shakes her head, watching him go.

"There's no stopping him, you know," Delvin interjects. "He thinks this will help him cope. And to Oblivion with us if we stand in his way."

"I just wish he'd stop and realize how much danger he's putting the Guild in," Vex mutters, sliding down into the seat across from him. "He's getting sloppy."

"A break will be good for him. And it's only been about two weeks since it happened. I'm still hoping it will get better with time."

Vex scoffs. "Better with time? I mean, I'll hope, but I know it won't." She takes a swig of ale. "The best thing that's happened to the Guild in years, and she goes and gets herself killed."

"I guess she wasn't as good as we thought she was."

"Or maybe she was and Karliah was just better. You remember how she was, don't you?"

"Karliah was very good. Still, I'd think Iris could hold herself in a fight. It's a shame, really."

"I mostly feel for Brynjolf. Did you see how those two were?"

"They made a good team, that's for damn sure." Delvin shakes his head. "If only it had lasted longer."

"What's the news on Mercer? He left a while ago."

"No idea. He just up and left again without telling a soul where he was going."

Vex groans. "I wish he'd just tell us what's going on every once and a while."

"Me too, Vex."

* * *

 **Yes, I know Karliah's eyes are actually violet, but Karliah and Iris can't both have violet eyes, so I changed it. Hahahah it's easier for when Brynjolf goes on about Iris's beautiful violet eyes. Believe me; it's better this way.**

 **Thanks for reading, and be sure to favorite, follow, and review if you haven't already!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi, everyone! I'm so excited to have so many favorites and follows! I'm glad this story isn't being drowned by all the others and that there are actual people reading it! It definitely helps me to write this knowing that there are people interested in Iris's story. So, thank you! Without further ado, here's Chapter 3!**

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Iris's recovery has been going too slow for her liking. Every time Karliah manages to close the wound, it goes and opens up again, burning and singeing more skin along the way. What started as a three-inch long stab wound has slowly turned into a five-inch long infection, oozing pus and crusting over as it bleeds. Karliah has been letting Iris redress it herself, and early this morning, Iris decides she needs to get a move on before Mercer's trail goes completely dead. It's already been eight days since she was stabbed. So, when Karliah asks her if the wound finally stayed closed overnight, she lies and says yes. Karliah believes her, everyone always believes her—save one, she corrects herself—and she hands Iris her fur-lined traveling cloak and Gallus's journal.

"I've put some more of the antidote, salve, and potions in your bag," Karliah tells Iris as she puts on her cloak. "Remember, Enthir. He'll know how to go about translating the journal. He'll most likely be in the inn. If not, just ask around."

Iris hides her grimace as she hoists her bag over her shoulder, clipping her sword around her slim waist. "Thank you for everything, Karliah."

"Of course. Now, travel safely. I'll join you in Winterhold when I can."

And with that, Iris sets off toward Winterhold.

The further north she goes, the more frigid the air gets and the more unbearable the pain in her side becomes. She wonders exactly what kind of poison Mercer used on his blade because it's murder. She usually recovers from things like this fairly quickly, but now? She needs to do something about this poison. Maybe this Enthir will know what to do. Otherwise, Iris will be forced to search for more…unconventional ways of healing herself. Like absorbing a dragon soul, for instance. And she's not completely sure that she'd come out of that battle alive in this condition.

Her hands are clamped around her side and her feet stumbling up the path to Winterhold when her resilience finally fails her. She only has a second to unsheathe her sword when the frost troll appears before her, roaring and slamming its frozen fists on the ground. Her eyes widen in terror as the monster's hot breath puffs on her face. She swings her sword with all her might, hitting the troll in the abdomen. But her hit doesn't break the skin. She's too weakened by the poison infiltrating her system. The movement tears open what little of the wound was closed. She cries out in agony, doubling over, warmth spreading across her stomach. She doesn't have time to react before the troll swipes at her with its frozen arm. Its growl rumbles through the air as she is struck in the side and tossed into the snow. Crying out in pain, she struggles to get to her feet, but the troll hits her again, across the face. Her sword goes flying from her hand, and she strains to summon flames. She sees crimson stain the white snow as the flames flicker weakly in her hand. She delves into her dragon power and uses the last of her strength to try and kill the damn thing.

" _YOL TOOR SHUL_!" she Shouts, her Voice sounding weak even to her. But the Thu'um does its job and forces the frost troll to run for cover. Now, she can only hope it stays away. Hot tears roll down her face and threaten to freeze as she drags herself through the snow, smearing blood in her wake and trembling in the cold. Gasping and weeping, she pulls herself with her arms, standing an ordeal too agonizing to even think about. She just needs to get to Winterhold. They'll help her. But her arms are becoming so heavy and her eyes so sleepy. The blood coating her stomach is the only warmth she can find as she trembles in the snow, her body slowly numbing. She lays her face down, her cheek pressed against the freezing snow, her arms splayed out in front of her. She should never have lied to Karliah. This is where it got her. Shivering uncontrollably in cold and unbearable pain, bleeding out. Funny how the Gods mess with you. She thought she avoided Death, defeated Death, only to find it coming to claim her once more, so shortly after her first encounter. She tries to raise her head out of the snow, tries to continue pulling her numb body along the side of the path but she can't find the strength to. And everything is becoming so dark—

* * *

Brynjolf trudges along the path to Winterhold, trying his hardest not to think about the Breton lass who had stolen his heart. He strains to keep Vex's words out of his head, hating that they were true. He can't deny it to himself. He has been getting sloppy. His mind's been preoccupied with thoughts of a violet-eyed, brown-haired thief and the gaping hole in his guilt-ridden heart. He thought that by taking all these jobs, it'd be easier not to think about her. But he sees her in everything: the setting sun, the frost on the trees, the feathers on a bluebird. Gods, he can't do this without her. He's never felt this much sorrow, all for a woman he met a little over a month ago.

But it's no secret how close they were. He confided everything in her. Told her all his secrets, insecurities, fears, aspirations, dreams. And she told him hers. They used to sit on her porch in Honeyside, talking for hours over a bottle of mead. There was a sort of bond between them, a connection, an understanding. They just clicked, fit together. They both wished for their…relationship to go further, but they were afraid. Afraid that what happened to Karliah and Gallus would happen to them. No inter-Guild relationships, Mercer had warned them. So, they kept it platonic, though they both wished for it to be more. Her eyes are what did him in. Drew him in and did him in. Her bright violet eyes shone with challenge, with mystery. It's why he chose her to help him with the Brand-Shei job. With eyes like that, she was no doubt skilled in getting what she wanted. And judging by the hunk of moonstone on her finger, he was sure she was a trained thief.

He never thought they'd connect the way they did. He went with her on the Honningbrew job. She claimed she needed his help with it, though he was sure she could've done it on her own; she just wanted an excuse to spend more time with him, she later admitted. Whispers about them began to spread around the Guild. Mercer actually approached him with his concerns at one point, urging him that another Karliah and Gallus would tear the Guild apart. His instinct was to not care, but the Guild was his family. No matter how teasing, beautiful, and alluring Iris was, he had to stay true to his family, and Iris agreed. And now she's dead, and they'll never know anything more than their platonic friendship.

Growling in frustration and despair, Brynjolf scours the path for anything to kill. He almost wants a dragon to come and try to attack him, just so he can alleviate his inner turmoil with outer violence. It's as if the Gods have answered his wishes because a frost troll ambles out onto the path. Readying his blade, he dashes straight up to it, noting the burns marring its arms. The troll has no time to react as he stabs it in the throat with his dagger, repeatedly. He doesn't stop until the troll lays in a pool of blood, very much dead. He sheathes his dagger, frustrated that killing this thing did nothing to remedy his despair. He inteds to continue on his way when he spots crimson in the corner of his eye. Turning, he finds a trail of dark, shining blood leading into the thicket lining the trail. Frowning, Brynjolf draws out his dagger once more, readying himself for an attack. It'd be just like those bandits to lure him off the path in this way. He slowly follows the bloody trail, his eyes darting in all directions for any potential threats. But when he finally reaches the end of the crimson path, he sees something, someone, he thought he'd never see again.

"By the Nine…"

She lays, facedown, in the snow, her usual tanned skin paled and frosted over in the frigid air, her long cinnamon colored hair adorned with tiny snowflakes, a puddle of blood surrounding her small body. He slaps himself across the face, hard, convinced that he's finally gone mad. But she's still there when he opens his teary eyes. He knows it's her, for the moonstone ring still adorns her finger. Shaking his head in disbelief, he goes to her side, carefully turning her over and gasping when he finds the enormous bloodstain on her Thieves Guild armor.

Her skin is freezing to the touch; he has to get her to Winterhold now. He carefully draws her into his arms, hunting for her sword and cloak. He shoulders her bag and sword, when he finds it, and drapes the cloak over her motionless body, the whole time believing Sheogorath has paid him a visit and finally driven him to madness. He runs to Winterhold. Never slowing down once and leaving a trail of dripping blood in his wake.

"It's going to be okay, lass," he whispers to his Iris. "I promise. Just hold on a bit longer for me, okay?" He finally makes it into the city and bursts into the inn, frantic. "I need help!"

The innkeeper hurries to him and gasps when she spots the woman in his arms. "Take her to the back! Enthir!"

Brynjolf dashes into the back room, never taking his eyes off of her still form.

"Put her near the fire. Gods, she's almost completely frozen," the innkeeper orders him.

He carefully lays her on the blankets the innkeeper spreads on the ground, close to the roaring fire. The innkeeper, Haran, he learns, spreads thick blankets over Iris but shakes her head.

"This won't warm her up quickly enough, and I need to take a look at the source of all that blood." She turns to him. "Can you warm her up?"

He doesn't need to be told twice. He ducks under the blankets and immediately gathers Iris in his arms, careful not to move her bleeding torso. Snowflakes rest upon her eyelashes, he notices, frost on her cheeks.

"What happened?" Haran asks him.

"I don't know. I just found her laying in the snow."

"Do you know where she came from?"

"Well, I know her. I just don't know why she was there or what happened."

"Hm. What a coincidence," Haran comments before turning to a Altmer. "Thank you, Enthir." She accepts potions and bandages from the elf.

He can't believe she's here next to him. In disbelief, he softly kisses her cheek, his touch melting the frost from her blue-tinged skin. Why did Mercer tell them she was dead?

"Let me take a look at her stomach," Haran says, kneeling down and shifting the blankets down. She unbuckles Iris's armor and pulls it open to reveal a blood-stained bandage on her abdomen. Haran carefully peels the bandage from her skin and gasps. Brynjolf's stomach churns when he sees the horrible, infected wound marring her smooth skin.

"By the Eight. Enthir!" Haran calls for the Altmer once more and points to Iris's stomach.

"Stabbed by a poisoned blade no doubt." Enthir kneels down by her side, peering at the crusted skin. "I haven't seen this type of poison in a long time." He straightens up. "I need nightshade, honey, and nirnroot. In the meantime, let's see if she had anything she was treated it with."

"Her bag is over there," Brynjolf points to it.

Enthir retrieves a salve from her bag and proceeds to rub the wound with it before redressing it. "Is she warming up?"

"Aye." The frost is gone from her face, and her skin is regaining its color.

"Let's move her into the bed."

Brynjolf carefully carries her to the bed, gently setting her down on the soft surface and covering her with the thick blankets.

Haran places a hand on Iris's forehead. "She has a fever. I'll fetch a cold cloth to keep on her forehead. She may be warmed up now, but soon she'll wish she was laying outside in the snow again."

Haran and Enthir leave the room, going their separate ways to fetch things to tend to Iris, leaving Brynjolf alone with her.

"By the Nine, lass. You're a fighter." He kisses her forehead, her skin indeed burning as sweat begins to accumulate on her brow. He settles into the chair next to the bed, his eyes never leaving her. He doesn't intend on moving anytime soon.

* * *

"Have you gotten that courier from Bryn yet?" Delvin asks Vex after taking a swig of ale.

"No. I'm starting to get worried. It was a simple sweep job. Do you think he got caught?" Vex arches an eyebrow, looking up from the pile of gold she's counting.

Delvin shrugs. "Who knows? His head isn't screwed on all the way. He could have been. But even then, news would have traveled to us by now."

"It's been four days. A job like that should've only taken one." She examines a coin before huffing. "Counterfeit," she mutters, tossing it into the water.

"He's mourning. Maybe he's taking longer. Maybe he's already done it and forgotten to send the courier. You know how he can be sometimes." Delvin sighs, downing the rest of his ale.

"Maybe."

"Should we send someone or just keep waiting?"

Vex sighs, looking up from her pile of septims. "I say we wait two more days. The worst that could have happened is he got caught and is spending time in jail." She shrugs. "Might be good for him. A shock to his system to snap back into focus."

"I guess…"

"If we haven't heard from him in two days, we'll send someone. In the meantime, we'll wait." Vex goes back to her gold.

"What else is there to do?" Delvin sighs.

* * *

 **Yay! Reunited at last :) Now, the action will really begin...**

 **Thank you all so much for reading! Please favorite, follow, and review! I'd love to hear your thoughts so far!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, my friends! Happy 2017! I hope you all had a great New Year's holiday! Thank you so much for all the favorites and follows, and special thanks to Luthlien for the review! I hope you all enjoy Chapter 4 :)**

* * *

Iris remains unconscious for nearly four days after Brynjolf finds her. He wants nothing more than to see those gorgeous eyes again, but her lids stay firmly shut. Though she did begin to mumble in her sleep. _Hallucinations_ , Haran told him. But she never witnessed Iris's 'hallucinations' moving things.

Brynjolf is falling asleep in the chair when a rumbling shakes him awake. Scrambling to his feet, he draws his dagger, bleary-eyed, and hunts around the room for the source, ready to defend Iris. He never imagines the source would be the beautiful Breton asleep in the bed. He hurries to her side, his brow furrowed as her lips move, forming words he's never heard before. The ground quivers gently at her whispers; Brynjolf looks on in confusion and slight worry.

" _Zu'u fen dreh nii. Zu'u fen krii rok_ ," she mutters, the bed frame shaking.

"Iris." Brynjolf strokes her hair, touching her burning skin. The cloth on her forehead no longer cold, he takes it, intending to rewet it with colder water.

" _Nid, lig. Zu'u vis dreh nii. Zu'u lost wah_ ," she whispers, tears on her cheeks.

"Iris, lass." He touches her face, gently sweeping the tears from it. "Wake up. You're dreaming."

 _And something else_ , he adds silently.

But she doesn't awake from her fever-induced slumber, not even when the sun peaks over the snowy mountaintops.

This continues over the next few days, awakening Brynjolf from his state of half-sleeping to hear her muttering unknown words and to feel the entire room shaking. He always knew she was hiding something from him. When sharing stories about their jobs, she'd begin to tell him about some ridiculous journey she made only to stop speaking when he asked what she was doing there in the first place. "It doesn't matter," she'd wave it off. It always bothered him; he's told her nearly everything, after all, but he didn't let it get between them. But still…he always wondered. And now? After witnessing the strange words flowing from her lips and the rumbling of the ground? It's why he decides to find out for himself what she was hiding from him.

It's Iris's fifth day unconscious when he finally does it. Late at night, before she can even begin to form the foreign words, he slips over to her bag across the room. Feeling horrible, he slips a hand inside and rummages around, looking for anything that might explain her sudden proficiency for an entirely new language. He doesn't find much. Just the usual potions and lockpicks mostly. But hidden at the bottom of her bag, he finds two books. Drawing them out, he stares incredulously at the first one. _The Book of the Dragonborn_. Why would she be carrying that around? Carefully opening the book, he tries to read the pages in the low light. He finds little markings in the margins, circled bits of text, and notes. Confused, he peers closer, finding that it's the Dragonborn prophecy. Iris has underlined certain lines of the prophecy writing notes such as, "Need to talk with Paarthunaax about this" and "Dragonsreach?". Why would she need to write notes in a Dragonborn book? Unless…

Brynjolf shakes his head, shoving the errant thought away. There's no way Iris could be the Dragonborn. The Dragonborn is famous. He'd know if it was his best friend. He sets the book aside, moving onto the other book. Her journal, he realizes upon opening it. He flips through the pages, feeling awful about invading her privacy, but he has to know. There, the eighth of Morning Star.

 _I can't believe it. I still can't believe it. I came here to get away, not get entangled in yet another problem. And this problem…it's big. Bigger than anything I've ever known. Gods, why do you keep doing this to me?_

 _I found out today that I'm the Dragonborn. It turns out that I'm the one who is supposed to stop the end of the world and defeat Alduin. Me. Only I can do it. Gods, it isn't fair. To put all this pressure on one person? I didn't ask for this. I came to Skyrim to get away and this happens._

 _The Greybeards called for me today. Shouted 'Dovahkiin' from the skies. I'm supposed to join them on the Throat of the World. I guess they're supposed to teach me the 'Way of the Voice'. Whatever that means. I'll go, sure, but I'm not promising that I'll help them with Alduin. I'm sure there's a way around it. There's no way I can be the only person in all of Nirn who can stop him. I'll write more after I meet with them._

Brynjolf stares at the page until the words begin to bleed together. "Gods damn you, Iris. How could you keep something like this from me?" He continues to flip through the journal, stopping when he notices she mentions him in one of the entries.

 _This man approached me in the marketplace today upon my first visit to Riften. He told me that I had all the makings of a thief. I didn't tell him that I'd already been one for most of my life. He enlisted me to help him in planting a ring in a Dunmer's pocket. I did with ease, and I was richly rewarded. He told me that there was a whole Guild of them, thieves, down in the Ratway below the city. He invited me to join them if I could make it through. Obviously, I did so with even more ease. My Thu'um grows stronger every day. I am officially a part of the Thieves Guild. I didn't tell them of my true nature, the Dragonborn. I do not want to be treated differently, though it is hard to keep such a big secret. But I am a master of lies and persuasion; I am sure I'll be able to keep my two duties separate. I leave for Goldenglow Estate today. I'll let you know how it goes._

He flips forward a few more pages and finds an entry from a few weeks ago.

 _It's getting harder and harder to keep my secret from Bryn. There's something about him that makes me want to tell him everything, something that makes me truly believe he'd understand. But…what if he didn't? I don't want my best friend to regard me as some kind of legend, hero, that I am clearly not. He tells me everything and I strain to do the same, but it's getting hard. He keeps asking me where I've been going after my jobs. How could I tell him that I was hunting for Dragon Priest masks or talking with the former Blades about how to learn the Shout needed to kill Alduin? I can't tell him, no matter how much I want to. I hate lying to him, but it's better than him leaving me. And, Gods, I'd never forgive myself if that happened._

Frowning, he flips to the entry from just last week.

 _I almost told him today. I was so close, but…I just couldn't. I don't want to worry him. I've already been avoiding the Greybeards, avoiding my destiny, I don't want him to tell me what I don't want to hear. And, Gods, things are getting difficult between us. I wish we could just say "To Oblivion with it" and become more than friends. We both know we want it, but…we can't do that to the Guild. And with this big, hulking secret between us, I'm not sure that becoming more than friends would work out. Honesty is the key for relationships, and if I can't even tell him of my true nature…I wouldn't be able to do it. It's already hard enough. We went to Honningbrew Meadery today to put it out of business. When we were down in those tunnels, I was so close to using my Thu'um. I've been using it so frequently, that I had almost forgotten that I couldn't use it around him. Gods, I want to tell him so badly. I feel horrible for keeping something like this from him, but hopefully, maybe, someday he'll understand. Or maybe, he'll just never find out. Maybe I'll die when I go to defeat Alduin. Maybe I'll tell Vex to tell him I've gone back to Daggerfall or something before I head out to kill Alduin. That way, he'll hold out hope that someday I'll come back. The world will be safe once more, and he will always know me as his beloved Iris. Not the Dragonborn._

"Damn it, Iris," Brynjolf mutters under his breath, flipping to the most recent entry.

 _It was Mercer. All along. He killed Gallus, not Karliah. I have to send word back as soon as I can, but it's nearly impossible for me to even move. The poison on Mercer's blade is unlike one I've ever seen before. Mercer has no doubt told the Guild that I'm dead…Gods, I can't think about what Bryn must have thought. I can't let myself think about it or I'll begin to weep once more. I've been praying to the Gods to give him peace and hope that I'm still here. I'll head back as soon as I can, but I have to deal with Gallus's journal first. Karliah said I should look for Enthir in Winterhold. I'll head there as soon as I'm well enough to travel. Maybe sooner, if I can convince Karliah otherwise._

And there, the truth finally laid out in front of him, Brynjolf shuts the journal and carefully places it back in her bag. Mercer. Of course. He always had an inkling that something wasn't all right with the Guildmaster. He supposes this explains the uneasy feeling he had the whole time Iris and Mercer were gone. And, of course, of all the things he thought she was hiding, being the Dragonborn was not even in his mind as a possibility. He wants to confront her with this newfound truth, but decides against it. He will let her tell him when she wishes. He looks to her still form as she begins to mutter words again in the Dragon tongue. Leaning next to her bedside, he strokes her long hair, softly kissing her forehead.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he whispers. "You'd still be my beloved Iris either way."

* * *

Iris's entire body aches, like she's been kicked in the stomach multiple times before her veins were filled with fire. She tries to open her eyes, crying out in pain as the burning sensation in her stomach rears its ugly head. She hears muffled voices, muffled footsteps, and she wonders if she's dead. But she thought there wasn't this much pain in death. Maybe she is dead, but cast out into Oblivion for running from her destiny. Maybe this is her punishment for not doing what the Gods required—endless torment and pain.

She feels her lips being parted before a cold liquid rushes down her throat. She coughs and sputters, gasping for breath as the fire threatens to take her back down into the darkness.

"Easy now, lass." The familiar voice sends a burst of light into her dark world, and she strains to find her way out.

Finally, her eyes force open, wide and unfocused, her mouth open in a silent 'O' as her back arches from the pain. Fire in her veins and ice on her skin, she shivers violently.

"Here, give her more of this," another voice bursts through her mind.

Her lips are parted once more and another liquid forced down her throat. Gagging, she tries to get away from the torrent of cold, but a hand cradles her head, keeping her in place.

"It's okay, lass. Just a health potion." Upon hearing the familiar voice, her vision finally clears, and she finds him kneeling by her side.

Her body immediately begins to shudder with sobs, her arms reaching out for her old friend.

"Bryn," her raspy voice cries as he envelopes her in his arms. "It was Mercer. He—he stabbed me, tried to kill me—I couldn't move. I couldn't do anything but watch—"

"Shh, it's okay. You're safe now," his voice hums in her ear.

"How—why are you here? Where are we?"

"We're in Winterhold. In the inn. I was coming here for a job when I found you lying on the side of the road." He pulls away, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You shouldn't have been traveling with an injury like that, Iris."

She hangs her head. "I know. But I had to hurry. It had already been eight days."

"Where were you?" Brynjolf asks her, his eyes searching her face, reddened with fever. "Mercer…told us you were dead."

"He did?" Her violet eyes begin to fill with tears once more, her small body shuddering with renewed cries. "Gods, I'm so sorry, Bryn."

"It isn't your fault, love."

"I know, but I—I can't imagine what that must have been like for you."

He says nothing, chewing on his bottom lip. He doesn't want to tell her how much despair he was in, how much he wanted to join her in the afterlife.

"But you're here now. Alive and well…kind of." His eyes sparkle with mischief.

"Mercer's sword was poisoned with something I've never encountered before." She winces in pain as she lays back down.

"I know. This Altmer has been trying to help, Enthir, I think his name is."

Her eyes light up slightly. Enthir. That's who she's supposed to give Gallus's journal to. But she tries to reign in her excitement. She doesn't want to get Brynjolf involved in all of this.

He notices her change and smothering of her recognition of the name.

"Tell me what happened," he insists instead. "Start from the beginning. Mercer said you went looking for Karliah?"

Iris nods weakly. "Yeah. We went to Snow Veil Sanctum. Supposedly, that's where Gallus was killed. Mercer made me lead. I didn't know why at the time, but now?" She glances down to her bandage-covered abdomen. "After killing tons of Draugr, we finally made it to one of those Nordic puzzle doors. You know, the ones that require the claw?"

Brynjolf nods. He's encountered some of those with Iris on their many journeys.

"We went through there and—" She takes a deep breath. "I was shot. Karliah shot an arrow at me. She had tipped it with a paralytic poison."

Brynjolf feels the blood drain from his face.

"I fell to the ground; I couldn't move, Bryn." Her voice drops to a whisper. "Mercer spoke with Karliah, told her that he was going to kill her like he did Gallus. But she got away…with an invisibility potion." She takes a shuddering breath. "He—he moved on to me. I—I couldn't do anything. H-he came at me, stabbed me. I-I thought—I thought—" She breaks off into sobs as Brynjolf holds her, gently stroking her hair and blinking tears away.

"I'm so sorry, lass," his voice breaks. "This is my fault. I should've gone with you."

"No." She pulls away, shaking her head. "No, he would've killed you, too. It's best if he doesn't know you know, Bryn."

"So, what, am I supposed to pretend everything's okay?" He shakes his head. "No, Iris, I can't do that."

"You have to. I don't want you mixed up in all this."

"Lass, I'm already mixed up in all of it."

"No. I don't want you to get hurt."

He scoffs. "What, like you?"

She opens her mouth to argue, but he cuts her off.

"Iris, I'm flattered that you care so much about me, but I'm in this whether you like it or not."

"Bryn, no. You can't get involved. He'll kill you."

"Like he almost killed you?" He sighs, taking her hands. "Lass, I thought you were dead. Mercer told us that you—you were killed by Karliah. I thought—I believed you were dead. I—" His voice breaks as he hangs his head. "I can't lose you again, Iris. I'm with you on this. I—I need to make sure you stay safe."

"Bryn—"

"That's the end of it, lass." He straightens up, releasing her hands. "I'll go tell Enthir you're awake. He'll want to ask you about your wound."

"Brynjolf." Her soft voice causes him to turn from the door. "I—" She pauses, meeting his eyes evenly. "I missed you."

A wide smile forming on his face, he strides back to the lass and envelopes her in his arms. "I missed you, too."

* * *

 **Woo! She's finally awake! And now, Bryn knows about her being the Dragonborn...hmm...**

 **More drama and cutesy romance to come!**

 **As always, please favorite, follow, and review! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

Iris has to talk to Enthir alone. Though Bryn has tried to force his way into all of this, Iris still intends to keep him out of it. And that means talking with Enthir about Gallus's journal _alone_. Which is nearly impossible to do since Bryn's always at her side. Not that she's complaining. She still can't believe he found her. Of all the people to find her lying on the side of the road, it was him. She'd be dead without him; she owes him her life. It's only fair that she try to save his. Which means leaving him out of the whole Nightingale business.

Which also means getting Enthir alone. At her thoughts, the Altmer enters the room…with Bryn, of course.

"How are you feeling?" Enthir asks her.

She feigns a grimace. "I could do with some more of that potion."

As predicted, Enthir turns to Brynjolf. "Could you fetch that from the chest in my room?"

"Of course."

Once alone, she drops the act and quickly draws out the journal. "I've been sent by Karliah," she tells him in a hushed voice.

The Altmer's brow creases. "Karliah? Then she's finally found it. Do you have Gallus's journal?"

She nods, handing it to him. "Yes, but there's a problem."

Enthir frowns as he flips through the journal. "This is just like Gallus. A dear friend, but always too clever for his own good." He looks back up at her. "He's written all the text in the Falmer language."

Iris groans in frustration. "Can you translate it?"

"No. However, I know someone who might."

Iris's ears immediately perk up.

"The court wizard of Markarth, Calcelmo, may have the materials you need to get this journal translated. A word of warning, though. Calcelmo is a fierce guardian of his research. Getting the information won't be easy."

Iris nods quickly, hiding the journal from sight just as Brynjolf returns. He hands the potion to Enthir who promptly passes it over to Iris. She takes a small sip and immediately feels relief.

"Let me check your dressing." Enthir gently pushes the blankets off of her slim figure and draws her undershirt up to expose the wound.

She hisses in pain when he removes the bandage and cold air penetrates the ruined flesh. "Is it better?" she asks through gritted teeth.

"By the Eight…" Enthir curses under his breath.

Iris conjures up enough courage to bring her violet eyes to the wound…and immediately gasps. The five-inch gash now spreads across her whole side in a diagonal line reaching to her hip. The edges of the stab wound are crusty, oozing pus and curling upward; whatever salve Enthir has been putting on it is clearly not working.

"Why isn't it healing?" Bryn asks, his eyebrows furrowing in worry.

"I'm not sure…this is a poison I've never seen before. I need to do some research. In the meantime, keep using the salve and potions." Enthir leaves the room, muttering to himself, after redressing Iris's wound, leaving Iris and Brynjolf alone.

"So…" Her violet eyes meet his green as he begins to speak. "Markarth?" He quirks an eyebrow.

"Damn it, Brynjolf! Why do you always do that?" she growls. She should've known he'd be listening in. "And before you ask, no, you're not coming with me."

He exhales sharply. "Lass, you won't be going anywhere for a while with that poison still in your system. You're going to need all the help you can get. Calcelmo will never give up his research, and breaking into his research lab is going to be nearly impossible. You'll need my help."

"No, Bryn. I already told you; I don't want you involved in all this." She winces as she moves to a sitting position. "Once I'm well enough to travel again, you're going back to the Guild to keep an eye out for Mercer, and I'm going to Markarth."

"How many times do I have to tell you, lass?" He strides to her bed, lightly gripping her shoulders. "You're not changing my mind. I'm going with you."

She opens her mouth to argue, but Haran enters the room, a bowl of soup in her hands. "Time for dinner, Miss Iris."

"Call me Iris, please." She glares at Brynjolf before taking the bowl from Haran. "Thank you for your hospitality. I promise to pay for this room once I leave."

Haran waves her hand. "Nonsense. It's the least I can do. Especially after you killed that dra—"

Panicking, Iris feigns a violent coughing fit, drowning out Haran's words hopefully before Brynjolf can catch them.

But he does catch them, anger rising up inside him at her lie.

"Oh my, here. Have some water, dear," Haran tells the Breton.

Iris nods her thanks, her eyes flickering to Brynjolf. He doesn't look happy. She takes a gulp of water, looking away right as his eyes flicker to meet hers. Haran hands the soup back over to the brunette and takes her leave. Iris sips it, feeling awkward.

"So, how did you come to obtain Gallus's journal?" he asks.

"Karliah gave it to me," she mutters, keeping her eyes down. "She told me to come here and ask Enthir about it."

"Why couldn't she have gone herself?"

"Exactly."

The two thieves fall into silence, Iris sipping her soup and Brynjolf settling down in the chair next to her bed. Neither of them speak for a long moment.

But finally, Brynjolf breaks the silence.

"Iris," he stops.

Her gaze flickers up to his as she sets the empty bowl on the end table. "What is it?"

He sighs. "I know you've been keeping something from me, lass."

She hopes he doesn't notice the blood drain from her face. "What are you talking about?" she lies easily, just as she always has.

"Iris, I'm not stupid. You've been keeping something from me since the moment we met." She squirms under his gaze. "Tell me."

She fakes a laugh. "There's nothing I haven't told you." The lie is so blatant, and she knows that he knows it.

His eyes flash, pinning her under his glare. "Lass."

"I swear, Bryn."

He watches her for a long moment, and she tries her best not to squirm under his gaze. "Are you sure?" He no longer cares if he's giving himself away.

"Yes. I promise you."

If he hadn't read her journal without her permission he'd be convinced she was telling the truth. She's a damn good liar, good at molding and twisting people, but it isn't so impressive when she does it to him, her supposed best friend. It cuts him deeper than he thought it would.

"Okay." He nods quickly. "Thank you for being honest, Iris."

She smiles easily, too easily. "It's the least I can do after all you've told me, Bryn."

He manages to hide his frown. "Rest. I can tell you're tired so don't even try to convince me otherwise."

She thinks about it for a split second but decides against it, settling against her pillow. And, damn it, he's right because she falls asleep almost instantly.

* * *

Four days. She's been stuck in this godsforsaken bed for four damn days, and still nothing has improved. Her body still groans and protests at every move she makes, the searing pain in her side never ceasing, her raging fever never giving her any solace. And the hallucinations have started. She doesn't know they're all in her mind at first. She's seen some crazy things. So, when the dragon's head crashes through the ceiling, breathing fire, she leaps out of bed in a wide-eyed panic. She thought she was fighting it; she could have sworn she was shooting flames and Shouting at it. But, Bryn told her that when he found her, she was passed out on the ground from where she promptly collapsed after leaping out of bed. And her wound, what little of it was closed, reopened. She's honestly surprised that she's still alive.

But she could do with a soul gem. Not wanting to call someone into her room to fetch her bag for her—she hates being so reliant on people—she decides that she's well enough to walk the ten steps to her bag and get it herself. Carefully, she flips the blankets off herself, slowly sitting up. She grits her teeth against the pain, wanting to do something herself for once. One foot down, the other foot down—her feet touch the freezing cold floor. Now, she just has to support herself on her legs. Clutching onto the bed frame, she pushes herself up, smothering her cry of agony and focusing on taking one step. The simple movement sends a splintering stab of pain through her side, causing her to double over. But she doesn't give up. She's the damned Dragonborn. Another step. She braces herself against the pain when it comes. Eight more to go. Her hand stretches out behind her, supporting herself on the bed frame, but she is too far from it now to use it any further. She lets go, her arms straight out to balance herself and readies herself for another step.

But her legs suddenly decide that they don't want to support her anymore. With a cry, she tumbles to the ground, landing directly on her side. Pain lights up the darkness behind her closed eyelids as she feels the wound tear open. Her body curls in on itself as blood begins to spill out of her abdomen. She tries to push herself to her feet, but only rips the wound more. Whimpering in pain, she tries to call out to Brynjolf, but her voice comes out as a rough whisper. She can hardly breathe for the agony. Her hand clutches the bleeding wound, pressing against the blood flow uselessly.

"Bryn," she tries again, but her vocals chords aren't working properly. Her body begins to tremble violently, desperately trying to do something about all the blood gushing out of her body. She needs help, now. But her eyelids are getting so heavy. They fall closed, seemingly of their own accord, as she tries again to call for her friend. He'll never hear her, she realizes. Warmth coats her side, and hot tears cascade down her face as she struggles to stay conscious.

Suddenly, she hears voices outside, footsteps drawing closer to the closed door. She prays to every God she can think of, even the Daedric ones, that Bryn will appear from behind that door. He's saved her once before; why can't he save her again?

The Gods must think the same because Iris hears the door creak open.

"Hey, lass, how are you—" Brynjolf freezes in his tracks for half a second, taking in Iris, trembling and lying in a pool of her own blood on the ground. "By the Nine, Iris!" He dashes to her side, brushing away the hair that's fallen over her face. "Iris!" He cups her chin, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Iris, can you hear me?"

"M'sorry," she whimpers.

"Lass, what—what were you doing?"

She gasps, shaking all over. "M-my bag."

He glances over at the perpetrating item, sitting on a chair in the opposite corner. "Iris, why didn't you just ask me?" But she doesn't have to answer; he knows why. Iris is the most stubborn and independent person he's ever met, and being bedridden and having to rely on someone for everything, not being able to do anything herself? He knows it's her worst nightmare. "Enthir! Haran!" He looks back to her, wiping the tears from her face. "It's going to be okay, lass. I promise you."

"By the Emperor," Haran gasps when she enters the room.

Enthir arrives as well, already equipped with potions and salves. "Oh my Gods. Hurry. Get her on the bed."

Brynjolf carefully cradles her petite figure in his arms, apologizing softly when she whimpers at the movement. He gently places her in the bed as Enthir draws her shirt up. He gasps; hot blood pulses out of the wound, too much blood to lose and survive. He mentally slaps himself. He can't afford to think like that."Brynjolf, keep her awake," Enthir orders him.

"Iris." He gently touches her face. "You have to stay awake, okay?"

Her eyes roll backwards as she struggles to hold onto consciousness.

"Come on, Iris. Stay with me."

"This isn't working. Haran, get me the mortar and pestle. We're going to have to use ancient magic for this." Enthir turns to Brynjolf. "I'm going to have to make an ancient potion. It may work, but it may make it worse. But…there's nothing else to try. It's this or nothing."

Brynjolf's heart shatters. "W-what if it doesn't work?"

Enthir bows his head. "There's nothing else to do. She's losing too much blood, and this poison is keeping my magic from healing it."

"Oh, Gods." Brynjolf doesn't bother to try to stop the tears forming in his eyes.

"Bryn." Her voice is so quiet, he almost doesn't hear it. But he looks down and finds her eyes halfway open. "It's okay."

"I can't lose you again, Iris."

"It's okay."

"Okay, here. What else do you need?" Haran returns with the mortar and pestle.

"I need nightshade, salt, bone dust, and blood." Enthir takes the mortar from her hands and sets it down on the floor, sitting down in front of it. He adds the nightshade, salt, and bone dust, grinding it into a fine powder before looking up at Brynjolf. "It has to be blood from someone close to her. Are you willing to—"

Brynjolf doesn't let him finish his sentence, whipping out his dagger and slicing his palm. "Take as much as you need." He squeezes his palm over the bowl, blood dripping into the mixture.

Enthir mixes it into a paste, dipping his finger in the substance. He begins to chant under his breath while spreading the paste onto Iris's bleeding wound.

She wails at his contact, and Brynjolf grabs her hands. "It's okay, lass."

Enthir continues spreading the thick paste on her wound, muttering unknown words under his breath.

"Look!" Brynjolf nods to the slowly closing wound. "It's working."

Enthir uses the rest of the paste before sighing in exhaustion. "There. I'm surprised it worked that well." He lightly touches the closed wound, though still reddened and crusted over. "The poison isn't gone, though. You need to take her to an expert."

"Like Calcelmo?" Brynjolf asks softly.

"No," Iris moans quietly.

Enthir nods thoughtfully. "Yes, actually."

"When will she be well enough to travel?"

"I'd say a day or two. She's only going to get worse from here, so as soon as possible." He nods to the Nord thief. "I'll leave you two to it."

"Bryn, no," her voice is soft, hoarse from crying. "Please."

"Iris, he can heal you. And we can get him to translate the journal."

"I don't—"

"Shh." He places his finger on her soft, pink lips. "You need to rest. We'll talk more later."

"But—"

"Iris. I don't understand why you're so against me going with you. You're going to need my help."

"I don't want you involved," she whispers, brushing his hand away.

"Why?"

She closes her eyes. "I was almost killed, Bryn. Mercer almost killed me. I—I can't let that happen to you," her voice breaks. "I can't—I can't lose you, Bryn."

He gently takes her face in his hands. "You won't, lass."

"It's just…this is big stuff. Like Nightingales and double-crossings."

Brynjolf's eyebrows raise at the mention of the Nightingales. "The Nightingales are a myth, Iris."

She shakes her head. "No, they're not. Karliah is one of them and so is Mercer. What's going on is bigger than just the Guild. It's dangerous."

"All the more reason that I come with you."

"I can look after myself."

"Aye, because you did such a great job of that last time." He gestures to her abdomen. "We'll talk more about it later. Try and get some sleep."

Sighing in frustration, Iris nods, settling against her pillow. It doesn't take her long to fall back into her fever dreams.

* * *

 **Uh oh. Bryn can smell a lie a mile away! I know they haven't gotten to do much yet, but Iris is almost recovered enough to set out! Thank you so much for reading! Don't forget to favorite, follow, and review! :)**


	6. Chapter 6

"Do you need help, dear?" Haran's voice calls through the door.

"No, thank you, Haran," Iris calls back, testing the water in the tub. She carefully strips off her underclothes, laying them in a neat pile on the ground. She peers down at the wound on her stomach, surprised that it still has not completely healed.

 _It's going to scar for sure_ , she thinks bitterly.

She climbs into the bathtub, every muscle in her body relaxing as she soaks in the warm water. She dunks her head underwater, coming up with dripping hair and sighing in relaxation. She scrubs the blood and grime from her skin, thoroughly washing her long light brown locks. She decides to remain in the tub until the water cools; leaning her head back, her eyes fall closed, her ears picking up the sounds of the inn.

The bard's droning voice sings Ragnar the Red again, patrons chat with each other over a mead, and the fire's crackling fills the silence in between. The water finally grows chilly, and Iris climbs out, wrapping herself in a towel before pulling on fresh underclothes. She slides into her long-sleeved tunic and pants, wringing out her wet hair and suppressing a shiver. Upon opening the door, she finds the inn very busy. She hurries to her room, praying that no one will recognize her.

"Hey, Bryn," she smiles at her friend when she finds him sitting in the chair by her bed.

"You look a lot better," he grins.

"I feel a lot better." She moves over to her armor. "Good enough to travel, in fact." She pulls the Thieves Guild armor over her tunic and pants, stepping into her boots.

"Maybe wait until your hair dries." He laughs, coming up behind her. "Unless you want it to freeze."

"Oh, good point." She bends down to pick up her sword when a pulsing pain rips through her body. With a pained gasp, she falls to her knees, clutching her side.

"Careful, lass." Brynjolf crouches down beside her. "The wound is closed but the poison is still in your system."

She squeezes her eyes shut, panting as the pain slowly ebbs away. "I'm going to kill Mercer Frey," she growls, trying with difficulty to keep her Voice in check.

"I'll help."

She raises her violet eyes to meet his green, her mouth quirking in a small smile. "When did you become so protective of me?"

"Since Mercer told us you were dead," he mutters solemnly. "I—I need to make sure that doesn't really happen."

She grins, moving to stand and accepting his hand. "It won't."

The two thieves decide to pass the time sitting in the hall of the inn. They choose a table close to the front, order drinks, and settle in to wait for Iris's hair to dry.

"I'll never understand this song," Iris mutters grumpily when the bard begins his rendition of The Dragonborn Comes.

Bryn glances at her, remembering that he has to keep her from knowing that he knows her true identity. "What, you don't like songs about ancient prophecies and the Chosen One?"

She scoffs, taking a drink from her tankard. "Yeah, let's romanticize some random person and make them responsible for saving the entire world." She stops suddenly, taking a longer drink.

"Sounds like you don't buy the whole Dragonborn business."

She shakes her head. "Nordic legend. That's all it is."

"Okay, so I'll just overlook the fact that the Bretons have three extra Gods who are really Elven deities."

She laughs, elbowing his side. "Shut up."

He has to hand it to her; she's a damned good liar. It worries him.

"Do you believe in it?" Iris asks, tilting her head and grinning crookedly.

"I mean, lots of crazy things have happened over the years. Why not believe in a mythical hero who will save the whole world?" He shakes his head. "It sounds crazy though. And I haven't seen a single dragon since the rumors started. I'm wondering if that's all they are. Rumors."

"Probably," she laughs. "People get bored and make up ridiculous stories. Or maybe it's some Daedra messing with us just for fun."

"They do that?" He takes a swig.

Iris scoffs. "You'd be surprised."

"Have you had run-ins?"

"More than I've liked."

"With who?"

She downs the rest of her drink, cradling her head on her hand. "You won't believe me."

"Sure, I will."

After giving him a doubtful look, she says, "Sheogorath. Clavicus Vile. Azura. And…Boethiah. Boethiah is _not_ happy with me."

"How—how did all that happen?"

She smiles wistfully. "We'll save those stories for the road. It's a long walk to Markarth." She stands, stretching her arms.

"Whoa, lass, walking?" He follows her to the back room.

"What else would we do? Fly?"

He shakes his head. "You're not well enough to walk all the way there, lass."

She rolls her eyes. "I'll be fine, Bryn."

"No, I'm serious, Iris. It's at least a four day walk from here." He watches as she stuffs potions and arrows into her bag. "Why don't we walk to Windhelm and take a carriage to Markarth?"

She whirls around, her violet eyes flashing. **"** I don't want to go near that wretched city, and I don't need a carriage. I'll be fine to walk."

"Iris, no. You feel good now, but after seven hours of walking?"

"I can decide for myself." She crosses her arms, her eyes narrowing to slits.

"You're too stubborn for your own good. You're trying to recover too quickly, lass."

"No, I'm not. I feel fine, Brynjolf. I can walk. That's the end of it." She moves to brush past him, but he catches her arm.

"What you're doing is beyond persistence; it's just stupidity."

She nearly growls, trying to tug her arm out of his grip. "Bryn, stop it. I know what I'm capable of. I will be able to walk there. I don't need a damned carriage!"

"Why not? Why are you so against it? It isn't a weakness to have to take it easy! You were stabbed! You almost died! There's an ancient poison in your system! It's perfectly fine if we take a carriage to Markarth!"

"I don't need one!" she bursts out, the ground slightly vibrating from the accidental use of her Thu'um.

"Don't forget, lass, I'm still your mentor!"

She laughs sarcastically. "Really? You're going to pull the authority card? That won't work with me!"

"You've forgotten that you're still my protege! I'm the one who is responsible for training you!"

"This is completely different. You're being stupid."

"And you're being childish," Brynjolf growls.

"So, are you! I am my own person, Bryn! I will walk if I want to! Gods, you're acting like you're my father!"

"And how would you know what that's like?" He doesn't mean to say it. The words leave his lips before he can censor them.

Hurt floods Iris's eyes as she visibly flinches back from his horrible words as if she were slapped, forcefully pulling her arm away.

He crossed the line, and he knows it.

"Iris—" He moves towards her.

"Don't." She turns her back on him.

"Iris, please—I didn't mean—"

"You've said enough."

"Iris—"

But she rushes out of the room and to the door of the inn before slamming it behind her.

"Fuck," he breathes, his hands going to cover his face.

How could he say something like that? Her parents abandoned her when she was barely three years old. Left her on the steps of the Temple of Kynareth in Daggerfall. They didn't even bother to give her a name. She was raised by the priestess, she told him. Though she barely remembered her parents, what they did to her still gashed a gaping hole in her heart. It's her biggest insecurity. And he just had to bring it up.

He curses himself under his breath, sighing in relief when he finds her bag still sitting on the bed. At least he knows she won't be traveling to Markarth. She'd never leave without her bag. And her sword, he notes, finding it lying on her bed. Guilt churns his stomach as he stands unmoving in the middle of the Breton's room. He needs to go after her. He needs to apologize.

Sighing once more, he turns and heads out the door into the wintery landscape, hellbent on apologizing to his best friend.

* * *

Her cheeks tinged pink with cold, she exhales sharply, watching her breath materialize in the freezing air. She should have thought to grab her cloak on her way out. Grumbling angrily under her breath, she continues her tirade toward the College of Winterhold. How dare he bring up her father? He knows how much it pains her to talk about her parents. The rejection felt from them plagues her to this day. How dare he bring it up? He was angry, she knows, but that's no excuse. Hot tears spill from her eyes, and she angrily tries to swipe them away. But it's no use. The fact that she almost died, three different times, is beginning to sink in. It's the closest she's ever come to death. Sure, she's come close before, but never this close. If Bryn hadn't found her, she would have been dead.

She climbs down the hill by the College, sitting underneath the bridge, a pillar against her back. She draws her knees up to her chest, letting herself cry. She hasn't in so long. She almost died. She almost killed the entire world with her death. Coming this close to death…she's been putting off finding the Elder Scroll. She doesn't want to be the only person standing between Alduin and the rest of the world. She doesn't want to be forced to defeat him. She doesn't want to be the Dragonborn. But she has to. She needs to stop putting it off, because if she comes this close to death again and doesn't make it, where will that leave everyone else? She's been selfish. If her parents knew she was destined to save the world, would they have kept her? Why did they abandon her? What was wrong with her? When will it happen again?

She lets herself cry in earnest. She's always on the go, running from city to city, busying herself with menial tasks for months. And now, she's been forced to stop. It must be why everything is catching up to her, she thinks. Brynjolf is right. She's too stubborn for her own good sometimes. She forces herself to stay busy at all times, never resting. She feels like she needs to prove herself. To who? Her parents? Who knows where they are now? She sniffles, rubbing at her eyes. They don't care about her. They left her. Who will leave her next?

"Lass?"

She gasps, springing to her feet and turning her face away.

His footsteps crunch in the snow as he approaches her.

She wraps her arms around herself, her back to him.

"Iris…"

"Leave me alone."

"I want to apologize."

"You went too far, Bryn." She hates how pitiful her voice sounds.

"I–I know. I'm sorry." He exhales. "There's no excuse."

"No. There isn't." She hears him sigh again; she can imagine him scratching the back of his neck, like he always does when he's stressed.

"I'm sorry, Iris. I was out of line."

She feels the brush of his fingers across her arm and flinches away, closing her eyes. "What you said…" She finally turns around, finding his eyes dark with worry. "That was low, Bryn."

"I know." He hangs his head.

"I would never say anything like that to you."

"I know, Iris."

She pauses, grinding her teeth. "You know, I—"

"Yes, I know! I know I fucked up! And I'm sorry, okay? I'm really sorry."

She doesn't say anything, her eyes downcast.

"Will you look at me?"

She gives into his request, raising her reddened eyes to meet his.

"I'm sorry, Iris." He meets her gaze evenly, and she finds herself almost lost in his eyes. "Please forgive me?"

She sighs, bringing a hand up to rub her sore eyes. "Damn you, Brynjolf," she mutters. "Fine. But only because I'd be dead now if not for you."

His brow furrows slightly before his expression relaxes in relief, even cracking the smallest smile.

She finds her own mouth curving into a subtle smile at his immense relief.

He must sense her mood lightening because his grin widens. "Your hair is frozen." He points to the long strands.

She glances down, gathering them in her hand. A shining sheet of ice coats the light brown strands, giving her hair the illusion of frozen snakes.

A small laugh bubbles past her lips as she clamps her other hand over her mouth.

He laughs, picking up one of the frozen strands. "We better get you inside where it's warm."

She nods, wiping at her face and laughing softly. She lets him drape an arm over her shivering body as they walk back to the inn.

* * *

"Okay. I have my sword, my bow, my ring, and potions." Iris checks off her mental checklist. "Is that everything?"

"Should be."

"Okay." She nods, swinging her bag over her shoulder. "Ready."

"Let's head out then."

"Wait!" She digs around her bag, pulling out a leather bound journal. "Phew, okay. Gallus's journal. Gods, I'm so afraid it's going to get lost."

Brynjolf laughs, leading her out of the back room.

"Thank you for everything," Iris gushes to Haran and Enthir.

"Be safe out there, Miss Iris," Haran smiles warmly.

"I will. And I'll be back soon with the translation," she tells Enthir. "Hopefully," she adds under her breath.

"Safe travels to you both."

Brynjolf and Iris step out into the frigid winter, heading straight down the road.

"So…Windhelm?" Iris asks softly, glancing at him sideways.

"Oh, uh, aye. Windhelm." Brynjolf is taken aback; he was preparing himself for a battle to try and get her to take the carriage from Windhelm.

"I just don't want to go in the city."

"We won't have to." He glances at her. "Why do you hate Windhelm so much?"

Iris sighs, fingering her sword. "I'm just not too fond of places with blatant racism, that's all."

Brynjolf laughs. "You'd better hope the Guild doesn't send you on any jobs there."

Iris shrugs. "It'll be more of a challenge because I'll have to really try to abide by the 'don't kill anyone' rule." She flashes him a smile. "But I'm up for it."

"Of course you are." He chuckles under his breath.

They continue chatting and laughing as they walk down the road. Once they finally make it to the Windhelm stables, Brynjolf pays the carriage, and they climb in, heading to Markarth.

* * *

 **They're on the road! What will happen next?**

 **Thanks so much for reading, and, as always, favorite, follow, and review! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**SURPRISE! Hi, everyone! Since this chapter is much shorter than the others, I decided to post it early as my way of apologizing for it. Thank you all so much for reading, and enjoy Chapter 7!**

* * *

"I'm starting to worry," Vex frowns watching Delvin. "We haven't heard anything from him. And it's been almost two weeks!"

"Vex, you're just overthinking it. Bryn's fine. He probably got distracted or something and forgot to send word." He scratches his head as he examines a gilded vase.

"I'm just really worried. He was in a bad way when he left. He's so torn up about Iris. I'm afraid he'll do something stupid."

"You worry too much." Delvin sighs, looking up from the vase. "Look, I'll send someone there to see where he is, just to reassure you, okay?"

Vex nods. "I can't believe I'm actually worried about him. He just didn't take Iris's death too well, you know?"

"I know. I feel sorry for him. They were inseparable. I always wondered if there was more going on between them…"

Vex shakes her head. "Oh, Gods, Delvin. I don't want to think about that."

"I'm just saying. That's probably why he took it so badly." He shrugs, going back to the vase.

"I guess so…"

"I'll send someone over to Winterhold after I finish this appraisal, alright?"

"Thank you, Delvin."

* * *

"So, I finally figured out that I was supposed to hit the two people sitting on the thrones with the Wabbajack, and it worked. I was sent back here, and he even let me keep the Wabbajack," Iris finishes.

"Wow…I can't believe you met Sheogorath and still have your wits about you. You're lucky he didn't drive you mad like everyone else who meets him," Brynjolf comments, watching the Breton shrug across from him.

"Yeah, I know. And the Wabbajack is very…spontaneous. I hit a bandit with it once, and he turned into a bear!"

Brynjolf joins her in laughter. "Where is it now?"

"It's at Honeyside. I haven't taken it with me anywhere after that happened." She laughs.

"Makes sense." Brynjolf glances at the setting sun and taps the driver on the shoulder. "Should we stop for the night? I'd hate for you to drive through the night."

"We'll pay for your room, too," Iris offers.

"You're so kind. Thank you," the driver replies. "There should be an inn coming up in a few miles."

"What's your name?" Iris asks.

"Alfarinn."

"Thank you for driving us all the way to Markarth. I know it's a long way away."

"Oh, it's no problem at all, miss."

"Iris."

"Miss Iris," Alfarinn turns to grin at her.

Brynjolf's lips quirk into a smile at Iris's natural kindness. It's one of the things he likes most about her.

She catches him smiling and frowns at him which only makes him chuckle softly.

"What?" she demands, lightly kicking his shin.

"Nothing."

"It never hurts to be nice, Bryn," she mutters. "You should try it sometime." Her eyes twinkle with mischief.

"Hey, now." He kicks her back.

"Here we are." Alfarinn steers the carriage into the inn's stable.

Iris hands him a few gold pieces to pay for his room before striding in with Brynjolf.

"How are you feeling?" Brynjolf asks her.

"I'm fine."

She buys a room for them, since Brynjolf paid for the carriage, and they set off to find it.

Iris opens the door to their room and takes a step in as Brynjolf follows.

"Uh…" Brynjolf stops as he sees the one bed.

Iris turns to face him. "It's fine. I'll sleep under the blankets and you can sleep on top?"

Brynjolf nods slowly.

"Bryn, it's fine." She tosses her bag on the bed. "I'm going to get a mead. Want one?"

"Aye, I'll go with you."

—

Iris sighs, falling against her pillow and closing her eyes, waiting for Brynjolf to finish in the bathroom. She's the perfect amount of buzzed from the mead, happy and relaxed but still has her wits abut her. She rummages around in her bag, drawing her journal out and settles against her pillow. She fishes a quill out of her bag and begins to recount everything that's happened since she wrote last. Just as she finishes the entry and stuffs the journal back in her bag, Brynjolf reenters the room.

"Finally," she groans, smirking a bit.

"I never said you had to wait up for me," he retorts, closing the door.

"I had to. Otherwise, I'd be woken up by you moving the bed around." She rolls her eyes, readjusting her pillow to lay down.

Of course, when he finally joins her in the bed, he jostles it as much as he can, purposely bouncing up and down and almost causing Iris to fall off.

"Bryn!" she shrieks, laughing.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" He stops moving around and settles in on top of the blankets.

"You're an idiot," she laughs, hitting him with her pillow.

He chuckles in reply, covering himself with a thick blanket and blowing out the lamp.

"Good night, lass."

"Sleep tight."

* * *

Somehow, over the course of the night, Brynjolf moved underneath the blankets. Not only that, he wakes up to find his arm wrapped around her slim waist, her face laying upon his chest and her hand limply resting across.

 _Gods damn it_ , he curses silently, but he doesn't move.

Taking a deep breath, he's taken aback when he catches the scent of Iris's hair—floral and sweet. It weaves into his nose, threatening to drug him completely. He tries valiantly to fight it, but he loves the feel of her closeness, the warmth radiating from her petite figure as she sleeps peacefully. Her long eyelashes flutter as she dreams, her breathing even and slow and her face completely relaxed for once. He absentmindedly kisses the top of her head, breathing in her scent. The Gods are toying with the both of them. They can't have this. They can't be together. The Guild has to come first. It has to. No matter how good this feels, no matter how right this feels, no matter how much they both want this. They can't.

So, when Iris begins to rise from her dreams, Brynjolf carefully slides out from under her, laying on top of the blankets once more, and feigns sleep when she finally does awaken.

* * *

Iris yawns widely, stretching her arms, and wincing when the movement pulls at her wound.

"Alfarinn is readying the horse. He said we'll leave in an hour or so," Brynjolf announces as he reenters the room.

"Sounds good to me. I'm still trying to wake up." She gently touches her side, testing different pressures on the injury. "Hey, Bryn?"

"Yes?" He turns from the dresser upon which his bag sits.

"Can you change my dressing? I don't know how to do it. I was…unconscious most of the time," she tries to joke, hating that she has to rely on him for even this small favor.

"Of course." He retrieves the salve and fresh bandages from his bag and sits down next to her on the edge of the bed.

She slowly raises her undershirt, exposing her thin stomach marred by the thick white bandage.

"It's not bleeding anymore," she notices.

"That's good." Brynjolf carefully peels off the bandage, revealing the scarring flesh underneath.

Iris's breath catches in her throat as his fingers assuredly work on spreading the salve on her skin.

 _You can't, Iris_ , she reminds herself. But her stomach flips as she really feels his hands on her; she looks up and finds his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his face already close to hers. Her teeth trap her bottom lip, unable to take her eyes off him. It's no secret that they're attracted to each other. They haven't been able to act on it because of Mercer. But now? Now that Mercer is out of the picture? She knows they both want it. So, when his fingers work across her abdomen, she decides that she just can't take it anymore.

Without warning, she grabs his collar with both hands, roughly pulling him toward her, and mashes her lips against his. He's only surprised for half a second before he reacts to her lips, one hand tangling in her hair, the other cupping her face. She kisses him with abandon; she's wanted to do this for so long, she's not holding back. She dares to carefully work her tongue between his parted lips, and he obliges, moving his lips rhythmically against hers. Warmth spreads to her toes as she realizes how much she's been missing. He was always more than a friend; they just never acted on it. But her perfect moment shatters when he slightly pulls away, muttering against her lips.

"Iris—" But he doesn't pull all the way away and still reacts to her lips on his.

She hums in reply against his lips.

But he pulls away again. "Iris, wait—" He moves his hands to her upper arms and pulls away. "We can't."

"Why not? Mercer isn't the Guildmaster anymore. Karliah didn't kill Gallus. There's nothing standing in the way anymore."

"The Guild. We have to put the Guild first."

"We can put the Guild first and still be together. Come on, Bryn. We both know we want this."

"I know, Iris, but…you know it wouldn't work. I'd end up putting you first if we were together, not the Guild. We can't afford to be distracted."

"We wouldn't be—"

"You know we would." He sighs, his brow furrowed as he searches her face. "Listen, I want to. Gods, I really, really want to, but…we can't." He lets go of her, pushing her away from him. "I'm sorry."

She nods quickly, blinking back tears, her cheeks threatening to burn with humiliation and rejection.

"Right." She clenches her jaw, keeping her eyes down. "You're right. I'm—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—" She feels his eyes on her, but she refuses to meet them. Instead, she gets to her feet, running a hand through her hair and exhaling as her lip trembles.

"Iris—"

"I'm—I'm gonna see if Alfarinn needs help with, um—with the horse—" she sputters lamely.

"Iris—" he tries again.

But she ignores him and rushes from the room, her cheeks burning and her tears finally spilling over.

Pressing her hand over her mouth, she hurries out of the inn and doesn't stop running until she's far enough away. She lets the tears overflow, trembling with shame and rejection. Gripping the roots of her hair, she paces back and forth, fighting gallantly against her tears.

" _YOL!_ " she Shouts into the wilderness, her Voice rumbling the ground and echoing down the mountainside as flames burst from her mouth, burning her throat. Her Thu'um sears the trees, leaving them a scorching mess of black.

Breathing heavily, she sinks to the ground. What was she thinking? She thought he'd be all for it. She thought he'd understand that there was no reason for them not to be together. Karliah didn't kill Gallus. So, why won't he let himself do it? Red-hot embarrassment suffuses her heart, churning her stomach. He blatantly rejected her, pushed her away from him. Her shoulders burn from where his hands were. Gods, she's so stupid. She shouldn't have done it. She wishes she hadn't done it. But she thought he'd finally agree.

She groans, using her Voice. All she knows is that the ride to Markarth just got a lot more awkward.

* * *

 **Oohhh, romantic tension! My favorite kind :D Thanks so much for reading! Favorite, follow, and review! Tell your friends! :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey,** **everyone! So, I didn't realize that if I posted early, you'd have to wait longer in between chapters :( This is my way of apologizing because this chapter is nearly a thousand words longer than the others! Yay! I thought about breaking it up, but decided to leave it as a nice surprise for you. :D**

 **Special shoutout to Guen and "Guest" for the reviews! They honestly made my whole day :)**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

He feels awful. Worse than he did when he brought up Iris's father the other day. She has to know how much he wants to give into his feelings. It took everything in him, and more, to pull away from her eager lips. He wanted nothing more than to keep going, tasting her lips, engulfed in her scent. He knows that Mercer is no longer the Guildmaster, and he knows that Karliah didn't kill Gallus. But that isn't the point. If they were together and went on jobs together, they'd both be distracted. Something would go wrong, and he can't afford something to happen to her. He just hopes that she knows that. But her eyes shone with hurt and rejection when he pushed her away. He only did so to keep himself from going further with her. But she must have taken it as a rejection.

He groans, rubbing his eyes right as the ground trembles, an unworldly Voice echoing throughout the mountains. Cursing under his breath, he knows it's Iris's Voice. He should go after her. Shouldn't he? Then, again, he is the reason for her anguish. Maybe he'd better leave it.

Sighing, he moves to the window, trying to find Iris. He's not an idiot. He knows she isn't actually helping Alfarinn with the horse. Gods, the ride to Markarth is going to be so uncomfortable. He could have handled that better. He was only being firm to deter himself from going with it. And now Iris thinks he was pushing her away. He needs to talk with her about it. Maybe once Calcelmo translates the journal, they can have a talk about it all. He needs her to understand that he's like her; he wants to go with it, but he has to be the voice of reason.

* * *

Iris doesn't come back until Brynjolf is already on the carriage.

"Ready?" Alfarinn asks when she strides up to the carriage.

"I just have to run inside and get my bag," she says, breathless and pointing to the inn.

"Already got it." Brynjolf lifts up her bag.

"Oh, thanks." She grins at him before climbing in.

The carriage begins to move as Iris reaches for her bag, digging around for something.

"What are you looking for?" he asks.

"Gallus's journal."

"I have it here." Brynjolf holds it up. "For some reason, I thought I'd be able to read it but…" He shakes his head.

Iris chuckles. "I'd be surprised if you could read Falmer."

"I would be, too." He laughs, handing the journal back over to her.

"How long until we get there?" Iris asks, tucking the journal in her bag.

"We should arrive just as night is falling," Alfarinn replies.

Iris nods, settling against the back of the carriage. "So, what's the plan?"

"Calcelmo will be in Understone Keep. He has a museum and research lab in the Keep, but usually hangs around in a side hallway where he conducts research." Brynjolf lowers his voice. "I highly doubt Calcelmo will translate the journal voluntarily. We will probably have to break into his lab and find something to translate it ourselves. It's going to be dangerous."

"Good. It'll make for a nice challenge," she smirks. "I was starting to run low on potions, and now, I won't have to buy any."

He chuckles. "Guess not."

He has to hand it to her; if she's feeling awkward, she isn't showing it at all.

* * *

As they continue onward, he notices Iris's eyelids drooping. She's been through a lot in the past week, and it must finally be catching up to her.

"Lass, why don't you take a short nap?" he suggests.

She shakes her head, blinking quickly. "No, I'm fine."

"As soon as we get to Markarth, we should head in to find Calcelmo. That way if we have to break in we can do so with the cover of night." He watches her, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. "You can't afford to get sleepy during that."

She hesitates, chewing on her bottom lip.

"I'll wake you whenever you want."

She finally nods. "Okay. Just for an hour. Wake me up in an hour, okay?"

He agrees, watching her lie down on the bench, cover up with her cloak, and close her eyes. He can pinpoint the exact moment she falls asleep, and he grins softly, watching her face slacken and breathing even out. He lies, though. He lets her sleep for more than an hour. He knows how exhausted she is, and she doesn't wake up on her own, so he figures she needs it. He also knows she won't be happy with him when she wakes up, but he doesn't care. It's for her own good.

What he doesn't count on is something he's never seen in his life waking her up instead.

They're turning onto the road to Markarth when it happens. The monstrous creature swoops down in front of the carriage, scaring the poor horse half to death. The horse whinnies, lurching to the side and taking the carriage along with it. Brynjolf feels the wheels opposite him wobble. Before he can think, he wraps his arms around Iris right as the whole carriage tumbles down the hill, flipping. She awakens with a gasp, and he keeps a tight hold on her as they're flung around like rag dolls, plummeting down the side of the hill before landing on the snowy ground, hard.

"What the fuck?" Iris bursts out.

If Brynjolf wasn't so terrified, he'd laugh at her; he's never heard her curse before.

An otherworldly roar vibrates the ground, and he watches as Iris's violet eyes widen in terror. He scrambles to his feet, holding a hand out to help her up.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asks in shock, his eyes on the creature circling the hill.

"If you think it's a dragon, then yes." Iris summons flames to her hand, unsheathing her sword and glancing at the dimming sky. "I was asleep for more than an hour, wasn't I?"

"Lass, you needed it."

"We'll talk about this later." She narrows her eyes, watching the dragon.

Brynjolf glances at the magic in her hand and sword in the other. "You're not going to fight that thing, are you?"

"It's fine, Bryn. I've done it before." She grimaces, briefly touching her side.

"What?" He shakes his head. "Iris, you're injured."

"I'm fine. Just stay low. Find cover, okay?" She surprises him by planting a kiss on his cheek before running off toward the dragon.

"Iris!" he calls after her. There's no way in Oblivion he's going to stand by and let her kill that thing all by herself. She probably told him to hang back so he wouldn't find out about her being the Dragonborn. Well, tough luck, because he already knows. So, he dashes after her.

When he finally reaches her, he finds the dragon perched on a dilapidated fortress and _speaking_ to her.

" _Dovahkiin,_ " the dragon booms at Iris's upturned face, her sword clutched in her hand. " _Alduin sent zey wah siiv hi._ "

Iris frowns. " _Ahrk fos dreh rok laan? Druv fund rok fid funrahiik sinon do coming okmaar?_ " The Words sound so strange coming from Iris's lips; they don't sound like hers.

" _Zu'u los nid nunal funrahiik, Dovahkiin_ ," the dragon growls. " _Ol fah ok funrah, nii los zos do dren._ "

Her eyebrows furrow. " _Oo? Ahrk fos fund tol kos?_ " She almost sounds sarcastic.

The dragon opens its mouth, its teeth gleaming. " _Wah krii hi._ "

Iris sighs. " _Zu'u suz._ "

Brynjolf barely has time to react. All at once, the dragon soars into the air, roaring horribly and shooting flames in Iris's direction. Brynjolf leaps from his hiding place and grabs her around the waist, diving away from the fire.

"What are you doing?" she shrieks, freeing herself from his arms.

"Just saving your life. You're welcome," he scoffs, dusting himself off.

"You can't be here, Bryn." She opens her mouth to say something else, but the dragon lands in front of her. "Go back to the carriage! Help Alfarinn!" She dashes in front of the dragon and slashes its snout with her sword, whirling around.

He actually scoffs before unsheathing his dagger. Looking at the dragon before him, he can't help but feel a bit foolish.

"Bryn!" Iris ducks, dodging the dragon's strike. "Go back to the fucking carriage!"

"I can't leave you with this thing!" he yells back, successfully stabbing the dragon's thick hide.

"Yes, you can!" He's never heard her voice like this.

" _Los hi nuk fah Sovngarde, Dovahkiin? Hin fahdon vis aav hi_."

Brynjolf doesn't know what the dragon says, but Iris's expression slackens in horror at its words.

"No!" She runs to strike the dragon, but it sweeps its tail across the ground, sending her flying backwards before slamming into a tree with a thud.

The dragon rises up before him, taking a deep breath. Brynjolf can't do anything but watch as it begins to bear down.

But a blur of light brown hair rushes before him, an ethereal sound leaving her soft lips.

" _FUS RO DAH!_ "

Her Voice shoves the dragon backwards, and she uses the opportunity to leap onto its long neck. Brandishing her sword, she hoists it over her head before heaving it downward into the dragon's thick neck. It shrieks, its enormous wings unfolding and bringing itself up into the air. Iris falls into a frenzy, stabbing the dragon with fervor. It lurches, trying to fly away from her fatal strikes, but she shimmies up its neck and brings her sword down into the hard bone of its skull. Brynjolf watches in horror as the dragon plummets to the ground, Iris still clinging onto its neck. The ground quivers as the gigantic beast hits the ground, sending Iris tumbling. He dashes over to her, but she pushes herself to a sitting position and shoves him away.

"No." She struggles to her feet as the dragon's corpse begins to burn before their eyes.

She stumbles, but shoves him away again when he tries to help her. The dragon's corpse crackles and burns; but then a golden light flows out of the body. Brynjolf watches in amazement as the light rushes toward Iris. She falls against a tree as the light touches her chest, seemingly flowing into her. She breathes heavily, her eyes closed, as her small figure continues to absorb the light. Brynjolf gets to his feet, slowly making his way toward her as the light diminishes.

"Iris—"

"What in Oblivion was that, Bryn?" she demands. "I told you to run! You could've been killed!"

"I couldn't let you fight it on your own!"

"Yes, you could! It almost killed you! You should've run back to the carriage like I said!"

"And let you take it on, one on one?"

"Yes!"

"And why would I do that?"

"Because, Bryn!" She grabs his collar. "This is what I do! Killing dragons is what I'm supposed to do! Because—because…" She trails off, dropping her hands.

"Because?"

She glares at him. "For Gods' sake, Bryn, don't act like you don't know! You saw what happened after I killed it. I absorbed its soul." She growls in anger when he refuses to answer. "Fine. You want me to spell it out?" She stands on her toes, getting in his face. "I am the fucking Dragonborn, okay?! That's why I could've taken it on by myself! I do this all the time! I—" She stops, taking a step back and covering her eyes. "Gods damn it!"

"Iris—"

She sinks to her knees. "I'm sorry, Bryn. I'm sorry for keeping it from you."

He kneels down, cupping her cheek and drawing her face upward. "It's alright, lass. I…I already knew."

Her violet eyes widen. "What? How?"

He shrugs slightly, grinning. "You talk in your sleep. Say words that…aren't words."

Her brow furrows. "They're still words if you can't understand them."

"I also found the Dragonborn book in your bag, with notes scribbled in the margins."

She sighs, dropping her gaze again. "Why didn't you tell me you knew?"

"I wanted you to tell me when you were ready."

She glances at him for a brief second. "I wasn't planning on ever telling you, Bryn."

"I figured as much." He frowns. "Why didn't you want me to know?"

She exhales, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "I didn't want you to treat me differently."

"I wouldn't have—"

"Everyone else does."

"I'm not everyone."

She finally meets his eyes, smirking slightly. "No…you're not."

He watches her until she grows uncomfortable and bites her lip.

"Can I ask what just happened? Was that light flowing into you really the dragon's soul?" he asks.

"Yes."

He raises his eyebrows.

"I know it sounds crazy because it is crazy. I didn't want this. I didn't ask to be the Dovahkiin. I don't want to—" She sighs, tears forming in her eyes. "I'm scared, Bryn."

He draws her into his arms. "You have good reason to be. Listen, lass, I don't know if I can help with…all of that, but I'll do what I can, okay?"

"No, it's my responsibility."

"Aye, a responsibility that you never asked for."

"I don't want you to get hurt."

He sighs. "Not this again."

She pulls away, still keeping her arms around him.

"This is big, Brynjolf. Huge. Bigger than me or you, combined even. I'm letting you in on the Nightingale stuff because it's related to the Guild." Her expression grows fierce. "But you are _not_ getting involved in this. I barely know what I'm doing, and I've almost died countless times because of it. I am _not_ letting you get involved. If you get hurt or—or worse, I can't—" She sighs, her eyes shooting skyward to blink back tears. "Please, Bryn. You can't get mixed up in this."

He takes in her terrified expression, the stress in her eyes, and decides to nod. "Okay. But if there's anything, any little thing, that needs to be done to ease the weight on your back, I'm always here."

She nods quickly. "Okay." She drops her arms, getting to her feet. "We better make sure Alfarinn's alright."

"Aye."

As they search for the toppled carriage, Brynjolf notices her walking upright, no longer cradling her side.

"How's your wound, lass?"

She looks down at herself, almost in confusion. "Oh." She prods her side, nodding. "It's gone."

"What?"

She lifts up her armor to show him nothing but a scar marring her side. "The dragon soul must have healed it."

"Wow." He lightly brushes the scar with his fingers. "That's amazing."

She doesn't say anything.

"Isn't it?" he asks.

"I suppose."

"You suppose?"

When she doesn't answer, he gently grips her arm.

"I don't like doing it. Absorbing their souls. I hate it." She lets out a defeated sigh. "I hate that I like doing it."

"But it healed you."

"I know. I shouldn't be complaining, but…I just feel…guilty sometimes." She shakes her head, gently pulling his hand off of her. "We need to find Alfarinn. We can talk more later, okay?"

He nods.

They find the poor carriage driver scared to death but not seriously injured.

"It's okay, Alfarinn. It's dead," Iris reassures him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. But my carriage…"

"I'll talk to the Jarl. Maybe he can pull some strings and get you a new one." Iris smiles warmly at him.

"Thank you, miss."

Alfarinn tells them that he has family in a nearby town and leaves them.

The two thieves gather up their things and head back to the road to Markarth.

* * *

Brynjolf peers over at Iris, noting the disappearance of the dark circles under her eyes. She catches his gaze and frowns.

"What?"

He shakes his head. "You look well," is all he says.

Her frown deepens as she nods ahead. "Finally. Let's find Calcelmo and get this over with."

The two thieves make their way to Understone Keep and find Calcelmo.

Iris approaches him, journal in hand, but doesn't even get the chance to say anything.

"What are you doing here?" Calcelmo asks her in a hard voice. "The excavation site is closed. I don't need any more workers or guards."

"No, I was actually looking for you," Iris tells him.

"I told you, I'm not hiring any more guards. Why do you people always bother me when I'm trying to finish my research?"

"No, I—"

Calcelmo raises his hands, shaking his head angrily. "You, idiot. Do you even know who I am? The most recognized scholar on the Dwemer in all of Tamriel, and you people keep bothering me!""

"Gods, calm down, you damned wizard!" Iris bursts out, her hands on her hips. "I came to ask you something."

"I…I'm sorry. I…I got too excited. I'm in the middle of some very…stressful work, and I shouldn't have yelled. How can I help you?"

Iris holds up the journal. "I hear you're the authority on ancient Falmer."

"Then you were well informed. I am at this very moment on the cusp of completing my magnum opus on the subject." He actually smiles. "I'm calling it 'Calcelmo's Guide to the Falmer Tongue'. It will revolutionize the way we understand those ancient beings."

Brynjolf moves closer to hear the two conversing.

"Perhaps I could view your work?" Iris questions, taking a step toward the wizard.

He scoffs. "Preposterous! That research represents years of personal toil in some of the most dangerous Dwemer ruins in Skyrim! You must be mad to think I'd allow anyone to see if before it's completed."

Iris leans closer. "You misunderstand. I'm a great admirer of your work."

"While I appreciate the sentiment, I still have to decline. Being an admirer, I'm sure you can appreciate the need to keep my research a secret."

Iris looks as surprised as Brynjolf does; her persuasion usually always prevails. Her eyebrows furrow as she glares at the wizard.

"Listen, I need that research. Grant me access or I swear you'll regret it," she growls.

But Calcelmo only laughs. "Do you realize that at a snap of my fingers I can bring the entire Markarth city guard to my defense?"

Brynjolf notices a gleam in the corner of his eye and finds the key to the Dwemer museum lying on a table. While Calcelmo is busy yelling at Iris, Brynjolf swipes it off the table and drops it into his pocket without the wizard even noticing.

"You best rethink this course of action or you may find yourself on the executioner's block," Calcelmo finishes his criticism.

Iris looks livid. "Forget it. Maybe I'll come back later."

"Very well."

Iris storms over to Brynjolf, passing him and heading to the door leading to Markarth.

"Iris." He catches her arm.

"That bastard! Gods, he's infuriating!"

"I know, but—"

"Did you hear the way he spoke to me? Like the entire world revolved around him?"

"Lass—"

"Sorry, Calcelmo, but it doesn't. If anything, it'd be me because I have to save the entire f—"

Sighing, he lightly places a finger over her lips. "Lass." He holds up the key, chuckling at her expression. "Come on."

He sees her fighting a smile as he turns toward the museum.

"It's going to be bad in there. Calcelmo's research is heavily guarded," Brynjolf warns her.

"Bryn," she smirks at him, her hand on her hip. "I've robbed places before, you know. I know what I'm doing."

"Of—of course. Sorry, lass." He grins sheepishly. "I'm being overprotective, I know. I just…losing you just made me realize how much I needed you."

Iris's lips spread into a bashful smile, but she forces herself to stomp on the hope in her heart. She won't face that kind of rejection again. "Let's go."

* * *

 **Poor Iris :( I'd be pretty upset if Bryn didn't reciprocate my feelings for him, too. Although, it is a little different for me since he's a fictional character in a video game... 0_0**

 **Anyway, here's the translation for Iris's conversation with the dragon if you're curious!**

 _ **"Dragonborn, Alduin sent me to find you."  
"And what does he want? Why send a messenger instead of coming himself?  
"I am no mere messenger, Dragonborn. As for his message, it is more of an action."  
"Oh? And what would that be?"  
"To kill you."  
"I figured."**_

 _ **"Are you ready for Sovngarde, Dragonborn? Your friend can join you."**_

 **Thanks so much for reading! I'm so excited to continually get more follows and favorites after I post new chapters! It makes me really happy to know people are out there reading and enjoying my story :) So, as always, favorite, follow, and review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey, everyone! Yes, I know this is early, and I know I vowed never to post early again. But I have a legit reason for this one! I'm leaving early tomorrow and will be traveling all day, and I didn't want you guys to think I forgot about posting. So, I guess you get this early again (I'M SORRY).**

 **Chapter 9! It's a little shorter than usual, I know. You'd think I've learned my lesson about posting early, but better early than late? *nervous laugh***

 **Special thanks to Lydia for the review! :)**

* * *

"Damn it, it's the city guard!" Iris hisses at Brynjolf as he finishes the Falmer rubbing.

"All right. If there is a thief, he won't leave this tower alive. But shouldn't we inform Master Calcelmo?" Captain Aquilius asks as Iris and Brynjolf hide in the shadows.

"I'll deal with my uncle," Aicantar snarls. "Just…go! Scour this place from top to bottom!"

Iris eyes Brynjolf, nodding to the exit.

"Ready when you are, lass," he breathes.

He follows her as she creeps along the wall, deftly hopping off the ledge and landing softly on her feet. They slip out onto the balcony, and Brynjolf takes the lead, taking the side path and pointing to the waterfall.

"Ready?" he asks.

"What?" Iris peers over the edge. "You want to jump off?"

"How else are we going to get past all the guards?" he smirks. "I've done it loads of times. Just jump right in the waterfall, and you'll be fine."

"You're crazy, Bryn."

"Says the one who can speak to dragons."

She peers over the edge again. "I don't know…"

"I'll help make up your mind then." He moves toward her, and she knows what his intentions are before he even touches her.

"Bryn, no!"

He grips her around the waist and, ignoring her protests, takes a running leap off the ledge. He laughs as Iris shrieks, clutching his arm. They plummet down inside the waterfall, finally landing with a splash in the water below. When he surfaces, Iris immediately splashes him, spewing insults.

"Oi! You two! Out of the water!" a guard yells at them.

Chuckling, Brynjolf offers a hand to Iris, and they step out onto the street, dripping.

"Sorry. Fell in," Brynjolf grins at the guard.

He frowns before stalking off, continuing his round.

Iris slaps Brynjolf's arm. "That was mean."

"It got us out, didn't it?" he chuckles.

She wrings out her hair, scowling at him.

"I know you, lass. Your being upset with me won't last long."

She scoffs. "We'll see."

—

And he's right. The two thieves make their way to the stables, and Iris somehow convinces the stableboy to let them rent horses.

"Damn, you can charm just about anyone, can't you?" Brynjolf comments as they ride down the road.

"Just about," she replies a bit quietly, not meeting his eyes.

He picks up on her hidden meaning, but tries to smother the guilt. Trying to lighten the mood, he uses his horse to nudge hers.

"Race you to that evergreen tree," he grins.

"Bryn—"

But he races off before she can protest. As predicted, she prods her horse forward, dashing toward his. The lass is too competitive and stubborn to forgo a challenge like this. He eases up, purposely letting her win. She makes it to the tree, cheering and smirking.

"I win!" she laughs.

"Serves me right for challenging someone who rides dragons." He smiles as he guides his horse up to hers.

"I need to show you my Whirlwind Sprint Thu'um sometime. Then we should challenge someone else in a race. Easy way to make coin," she tells him as they continue down the road.

"How does that work? Your Shouting?"

"I don't know. It's just this…feeling. Deep in my chest. Like a well of energy just waiting there. I just draw upon it and…it's hard to explain."

"When did you find out what you were?"

"Ever since I helped kill this dragon outside of Whiterun. I absorbed its soul, and then the Greybeards called for me." She sighs. "It's been a whirlwind ever since."

"And you naturally understand the Dragon language?"

"Yeah. It's like a second language to me. Which is very strange considering I've tried learning other languages before and failed miserably."

Brynjolf laughs. "Aye. Me too." He grins at her. "But anyway, I was right."

She frowns, glancing at him. "About what?"

"I knew you wouldn't stay mad at me for long." He laughs as she tries to elbow him and races off, with her laughing protests echoing behind him.

* * *

By the time they get to Winterhold, Iris really believes she could sleep for an entire week and still wake up sleepy. Judging by Bryn's drooping eyes, she can tell he feels the same. The two trudge into the inn, heading directly to the cellar where Enthir and Karliah await.

Karliah starts when she sees Brynjolf.

"It's okay. Iris told me everything," he reassures her.

"Back, eh? And how was our friend Calcelmo?" Enthir asks Iris.

She shakes her head angrily. "First of all, he was a complete—"

"Here." Brynjolf hands the elf the rubbing. "This should help translate Gallus's journal."

Iris gives him a look which he returns with a sly wink. Little does he know how much it makes her heart flutter. Damn that Nord thief.

"I suppose it would be inappropriate of me to ask how you obtained this, so I simply won't." Enthir brings the rubbing up to his eyes. "A rubbing, eh? Odd. I expected notes."

"Yeah, so did we," Iris scoffs lightly. "It's quite the tale, Enthir."

"I believe it. Now, let me take a good look at this." He moves over to the table, and the three thieves follow. "Hmm. This is intriguing, but highly disturbing," Enthir comments, looking over the journal. "It appears Gallus had suspicions about Mercer's allegiance to the Guild for months. Gallus had begun to uncover what he calls an 'unduly lavish lifestyle replete with spending vast amounts of gold on personal pleasures'."

Brynjolf and Iris exchange a look.

"Does the journal say where this wealth came from?" Karliah inquires.

"I swear, if it's—"

"Shh," Iris hushes the slowly angering Nord.

"Yes, Gallus seems certain that Mercer had been removing funds from the Guild's treasure without anyone's knowledge," Enthir continues.

"That bastard—" Brynjolf's eyes burn with anger.

"Anything else, Enthir? Anything about…the Nightingales?" Karliah asks.

Enthir looks over the journal, flipping through the pages. "Hmm, yes. Here it is. The last few pages seem to describe 'the failure of the Nightingales' although it doesn't go into great detail. Gallus also repeatedly mentions his strong belief that Mercer desecrated something known as the Twilight Sepulcher."

Iris glances at Karliah, whose face slackens.

"Shadows preserve us. So, it's true."

"I'm not familiar with the Twilight Sepulcher. What is it? What's Mercer done?" Enthir asks what the other two thieves are thinking.

But Karliah shakes her head. "I'm sorry, but I cannot say. All that matters is we deliver your translation to the Guild immediately. Farewell, Enthir…words can't express…"

"It's alright, Karliah. You don't have to say a word."

Brynjolf nudges the Breton. "Iris—"

"Wait." She nods to the approaching Nightingale.

"We must hasten to Riften before Mercer can do any more damage to the Guild."

"What's the Twilight Sepulcher?" Iris asks instead.

Karliah sighs, looking between them. "You've come this far, so I can see no harm in concealing it any longer. The Twilight Sepulcher is the temple to Nocturnal. It's what the Nightingales are sworn to protect with their lives."

"I thought the Nightingales were nothing but a tall tale," Bryn comments.

"I used to think so, too, before Gallus told me otherwise."

"Why does the Sepulcher require that type of protection?" Iris asks.

"Everything that represents Nocturnal's influence is contained within its walls. Now, it seems Mercer's broken his oath with Nocturnal and defiled the very thing he swore to protect."

The violet-eyed thief frowns. "Thieves and temples…it just doesn't add up."

"I felt the same way when Gallus first revealed these things to me. I think, given time, you'll understand what I mean."

Iris sighs, her eyes hardening. "I'd understand better if less mystery was involved."

"As a Nightingale, I've been sworn to secrecy regarding the Sepulcher. I know the Guild doesn't do much to foster faith, but I'm going to have to ask that you continue to trust me."

Iris regards her for a moment. "Fine. We'll do it your way for now. But there is one thing we need to figure out." She turns to Brynjolf. "You need to head to the Guild ahead of us."

"What? Why?" His brow furrows in confusion as he crosses his arms.

"The Guild is going to have a hard time believing us if we walk straight in. They think I'm dead, she's a murderer, and you're still grieving. You need to go ahead and tell them that you saw me with Karliah, that I'm not dead. Make them think that you suspect I'm working with her. After that, we'll 'convince' you to see the truth."

His hard gaze threatens to dissolve her. "How long have you been planning this?"

"That's beside the point, Bryn. Please." She takes a step toward him. "You know this is the best way. Otherwise, they'll brand us all liars. And if Mercer's there?"

"I don't like this splitting up, lass."

"I know. But this is the only way. Please." She places a hand on his arm, her eyes pleading.

She squirms under his glare until he sighs.

"Fine. But I'm traveling with you until we're close enough to Riften."

"You know, I've traveled by myself before. I used to do it all the time," she quirks her brow.

"Aye, but that was before you were almost killed. Now, you have me to worry over you."

She playfully hits his chest. "I can handle myself."

"I don't doubt it at all. But I'm still allowed to worry." He smiles at her, unknowingly melting her heart while simultaneously filling it with anguish over what he won't allow to happen.

"Once you're done flirting, we'll be off," Karliah interrupts them.

Heat rushes to her cheeks as Iris turns away from Bryn.

"We'll work out details on our little scheme on the way," Karliah continues.

And the three thieves set out toward Riften.

* * *

"Bryn! For Gods' sake, you had us worried sick!" Vex dashes up to the Nord when he enters the Flagon. "Where were you?" she asks, noting his slumped shoulders.

"I…have news," he mutters, collapsing into his usual seat.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"Well, first of all…" His green eyes flit up to meet hers and Delvin's. "Iris is alive."

"What?"

"No way."

Brynjolf nods solemnly.

"Isn't this a good thing?" Delvin questions.

Brynjolf squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing his temple. "I don't know. I…I saw her with—Gods—I saw her with Karliah."

"Karliah?"

"Aye. I think Iris was working with her all along. Trying to sink the Guild."

"But why would she want to do that?" Delvin asks.

Brynjolf shrugs. "No idea." His face falls into his hand. "Gods, I'm happy she's alive, but…I don't know what to do."

"You should get some rest first. You look horrible," Vex tells him.

"Thanks, Vex," he utters sarcastically.

"Really. Go sleep. We'll talk more about this when you wake up."

He nods somberly before standing and shuffling to the Cistern.

Vex watches him go with worry. "Gods, I almost wish Iris was actually dead." She looks to Delvin. "Why would Mercer lie about that?"

"Probably trying to protect all of us. Losing someone is usually a little easier than betrayal."

At his words, the Flagon door creaks open, a slim figure entering and lingering by the entrance.

"Who's that?" Vex asks, eyeing the hooded figure.

"Probably another one of those damned Thalmor getting lost again. Just leave 'em alone. They always leave eventually." Delvin stands. "I'm going to see if Mercer's in. We need to talk to him about this."

"I'll go with you."

* * *

 **Ooh, we're finally getting into the good stuff! Thank you all so so so much for reading, and be sure to favorite, follow, and review! The reviews seriously make my day and give me extra motivation to write this story! :) Until next time!**


	10. Chapter 10

"I'm glad you're here," Karliah breathes when Iris enters the Flagon. "I think some of these people are beginning to suspect who I am. Are you ready to face the Guild?"

Iris fidgets, looking at her boots. "What if…what if Mercer's there?" She doesn't bother to hide the fear in her voice.

Karliah places a reassuring hand on her arm. "Then we show them Gallus's journal and hope for the best. Remember, we have proof, and all he's got is his word."

Iris nods slowly. "Okay." Taking a deep breath, she swallows. "Let's go."

"Keep your eyes open. I'm not sure what to expect when we enter the Cistern." She chuckles softly. "Who knows what Brynjolf told them?"

The two thieves, weapons at the ready, cross the stone bridge and crack open the door to the Cistern.

And promptly run into Vex, Delvin, and Brynjolf, awaiting them at the entrance.

Iris swallows her smile at seeing Brynjolf feigning anger and brandishing his dagger.

"You better have a damn good reason to be here with that murderer, lass," he growls at her.

His expression is so intense, that it actually frightens her a bit.

"Please, lower your weapons so we can speak. I have proof that you've all been misled!" Karliah holds her hands up.

Brynjolf regards her with his stormy eyes. "No tricks, Karliah, or I'll cut you down where you stand. You, too, Iris."

Iris swallows as he points his dagger at her.

"Now, what's this so called proof you speak of?" He sheathes his weapon, urging the others to do the same.

Iris takes a step forward, the journal in her hands. "We have Gallus's journal. I think you'll find its contents…disturbing."

"Let me see." He takes it from her hands, opening it up and flipping through it. "No, it…it can't be. This can't be true. I've known Mercer too long…" He glances up at them with outrage etched on his features.

"It's true, Brynjolf," Karliah assures him. "Every word. Mercer's been stealing from the Guild for years, right under your noses."

Bryn closes the journal, handing it back to Iris. "There's only one way to find out if what she says is true." He turns to Delvin. "I need you to open the Vault."

"Wait just a blessed moment, Bryn. What's in that book? What did it say?"

"It says Mercer's been stealing from our vault for years. Gallus was looking into it before he was murdered." Brynjolf begins to move toward the Vault, the rest of them in tow.

"How can Mercer open up a vault that needs two keys? It's impossible. Could he pick his way in?" Delvin questions.

"That door has the best puzzle locks money can buy," Vex finally speaks. "There's no way it can be picked open."

"He didn't need to pick the lock," Karliah mentions quietly.

"What's she on about?" Delvin wonders.

But Bryn waves his hand. "Use your key on the Vault. We'll open it up and find out the truth." He catches Iris's gaze as Delvin moves toward the Vault and winks.

"It's still locked up tighter than a drum. Now use yours."

Brynjolf walks up to the Vault, using his key and pushing the golden doors open.

"By the Nine!" Iris can tell his surprise is real this time. "It's gone, everything's gone! Get in here, all of you!"

Iris enters the Vault and gasps, seeing nothing but empty chests and urns where coin and jewels use to be.

"It's all gone." Delvin's mouth opens in horror.

Vex unsheathes her dagger, fury lacing her mouth. "That son-of-a-bitch! I'll kill him!"

Brynjolf approaches her, his hands up. "Vex, put it away. Right now. We can't afford to lose our heads. We need to calm down and focus."

"Do what he says, Vex. This isn't helping right now," Delvin encourages her.

Looking between the two, she sighs, sheathing her dagger. "Fine. We do it your way. For now."

"Delvin, Vex…watch the Flagon. If you see Mercer, come tell me right away."

They nod, starting off in that direction. Once out of earshot, Brynjolf turns to Iris, grinning slightly.

"You're an absolute genius, Iris," he praises her.

She sweeps her hair over her shoulder. "Why, thank you." She bites her lip. "You scared me, though. For a second, you had me convinced."

He quirks an eyebrow. "Just a second?"

She tries to smother her smile, elbowing him.

"Listen, lass, I need you to do something else for me."

"What would that be?"

"To break into Mercer's house and search for anything that could tell us where he went."

Iris frowns. "He has a house in Riften?"

"Aye. A gift from the Black-Briars after they kicked the previous family out…place called Riftweald Manor. He never stays there, just pays for the upkeep on it. Hired some lout by the name of Vald to guard the place."

"I'll take care of it." She moves to walk past him, but he catches her arm.

"Be careful, lass. This is the last place in Skyrim I'd ever want to send you. Just find a way in, get the information, and leave." He pauses, his green eyes boring into her violet. "And you have permission to kill anyone who stands in your way."

She nods. "Any suggestions on how I deal with this Vald?"

Bryn exhales. "He's a real piece of work. Mercer's holding something over his head, keeping him loyal. Talk to Vex. She used to know him very well…if you catch my meaning."

Iris can't help but laugh, and Brynjolf has no choice but to join in her infectious laughter.

"Oh, Gods, that's all I'm going to think about when I see him now." She moves past him, heading to find Vex.

"Want me to come with you to Mercer's?" Brynjolf questions.

She turns. "No, I can do it. You should stay here. Keep an eye out for that motherf—uh, for Mercer."

Brynjolf smirks. "That's not what you were going to say, lass."

"Shut up. I'm going to Mercer's house."

His expression turns stony. "Be careful, okay? I almost lost you to that madman once. I don't want it to happen again."

Against her better judgment, she strides back over to him, planting a purposeful kiss on his cheek. "You worry too much." And with that, she heads into the Flagon.

* * *

"So…you're alive after all," Vex comments when Iris finds her.

"Luckily. Mercer tried to kill me and then told everyone he succeeded."

"Yeah…Bryn was a mess after that."

Iris winces, drowning her despair at the thought. "He said you have info on Vald," she changes the subject.

"That pig? Oh, I have info on him. More than you care to know."

"Ew, Vex, spare me the details." Iris chuckles. "I just want to get on his good side."

"Vald? Good side?" Vex scoffs. "I think you have the wrong person. The only thing Vald understands is gold. A man after my own heart."

"Why didn't it work out?" Iris smirks. "Kidding. So, do I buy him off?"

"Sure, but he'll ask for a whole lot. I mean, you are asking him to betray Mercer Frey. Your best bet would be to erase his debt with Maven Black-Briar. If you talk to her, she might be able to give you the details. Of course, you could just run him through and take what you need off of his corpse…I couldn't care less."

Iris smirks again. "You're making me wonder why you broke it off, and I'm pretty sure I don't want to know, despite how curious I am about it."

Vex waves her hand. "Yeah, you don't want to know."

* * *

Iris thought Vald's debt would be easy to resolve. She'd find Maven, find out how much he owed, and pay the rest. But no. Of course it had to be more complicated. Maven told her that Vald was delivering a magical quill but dropped it in the lake. She will only take the quill to absolve the debt. So, Iris had no choice but to jump in the nasty waters of the lake and dive to the bottom, scouring the depths for the blasted thing. She finally finds it in a strongbox near debris from the small rowboat. She breaks four lock picks before opening the box; picking locks underwater is hard work. But she finally obtains the quill and paddles to the surface. Shivering in the wintery air, she makes her way back to Riften and presents the quill to Maven who gives her a letter to give to Vald saying his debt has been paid.

The oaf hurries away after Iris delivers the letter, leaving her wonder what in Oblivion Vex saw in him. She slips past the gate, pulling her hood up and readying herself for a huge infiltration job. She shoots the mechanism on the balcony as Bryn suggested, and a ramp lowers down. She carefully climbs up the ramp and slips into Mercer's house.

She gets past the guards with ease, timing their steps perfectly so they miss her completely. She's almost caught, though, when picking the lock on the double doors on the bottom floor. She manages to hurry into the room before they see her, but it's a close one. Growling to herself in her mind, she finds that the room leads to nowhere. She's searched this entire damn house and hasn't found a single shred of evidence of where he's gone. Her hair blows lightly into her face, and she swipes it away in annoyance. How there's even a breeze in here is beyond her—wait. Her violet eyes find the cabinet on the far side of the room, noting the dimensions are slightly off compared to the others. She creeps over to it, opening the cabinet and tapping on the back panel. Sure enough, it's hollow behind and with a small push it opens up into a series of tunnels. It turns out Mercer's house is directly connected to the Ratway. After dodging traps and maneuvering through the tunnels, she comes to a wide, stone room. She almost laughs when she sees a bust of the Grey Fox sitting upon Mercer's desk. She searches the desktop, finding a bundle of papers detailing Mercer's next move. She curses under her breath when she skims through the papers. She has to get this back to Bryn. Leaving the room, she continues down the tunnels, coming to a small hole and dropping through it to fin herself standing at the entrance of the Ragged Flagon. Easy enough, she thinks to herself as she opens the door and goes to Brynjolf to tell him what she found.

—

She finds him leaning over Mercer's desk in his little corner when she enters the Cistern. A small smile tugs at her lips as she sees his brow furrowed in concentration; he hasn't seen her yet, and she admits that she quite likes watching him without him noticing. But Mercer's plans are of utmost importance. So, she approaches him, trying to keep the smile off her lips.

"Iris." He glances up when he sees her in front of the desk. "We've scoured the entire damned town, and I've spoken to every contact we have left. There's no sign of Mercer."

"Damn it," she mutters.

"Any luck on your end?"

"He wasn't there. But," she places the plans on the desk, "I did find these very helpful plans."

Bryn's eyebrows lower as he reads the plans.

"Fuck! He's going after the Eyes of the Falmer? That was Gallus's pet project." He glances up at her, his eyes intense. "If he gets his hands on them, you can be certain he'll be gone for good and set up for life."

"Then we'll just have to stop him."

"That bastard's taken everything the Guild has left, and to go after one of the last greatest heists is just an insult." He shakes his head. "I've talked to the Guild, and they've all agreed to make amends with Karliah. She wants to talk to us."

"About what?"

"She didn't say. But we should probably go at once." He steps out from behind the desk. "Come on." He nods to where Karliah stands in the center of the Cistern.

Karliah approaches them both as they join her in the middle.

"Brynjolf, the time has come to decide Mercer's fate. Until a new Guildmaster is chosen, the decision falls to you," Karliah tells him seriously.

"Aye. I've come to a decision." He looks at Iris, his eyes hard. "Mercer tried to kill both of you. He betrayed the Guild, murdered Gallus, and made us question our future. He needs…to die."

Iris nods eagerly.

"We have to be very careful. Mercer is a Nightingale, an Agent of Nocturnal," Karliah warns them.

Iris scoffs. "Well, I'm the fucking Dragonborn. I'll Shout him to pieces."

"I'm not sure that's the best way to go about this," Karliah says slowly. "We need to meet Mercer on equal footing. But I have an idea. Just outside of Riften, beyond the Southeast Gate is a small path cut up the mountainside. At the end of the path is a clearing and an old standing stone. I'd ask you both to meet me there first thing tomorrow morning." Karliah peers at them. "You two look completely exhausted."

"Aye, because we are."

Karliah leaves them; Iris turns to Brynjolf.

"Well, I'm going to Honeyside. I haven't been there in a while, and I don't really like sleeping out in the open like this." She gestures to her designated bed.

"Okay. I'll see you at the stone tomorrow, then?"

Iris nods, wrapping her arms around herself. "How did we get into this mess, Bryn?"

"It wasn't our doing, lass. It was all Mercer. But it will all be over soon." He places his hand on her arm, giving her a reassuring smile.

"Thank the Gods. See you tomorrow." She leaves him with a smile, aware of his eyes on her back as she climbs up the ladder and out of sight.

* * *

 **Oohhh, what will happen next? Thank you so much for reading! And, as always, favorite, follow, and review! :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello, everyone! I'm so excited about how many new followers and views I've gotten over this past week! Thank you all so much for being amazing readers!**

 **Here's chapter 11!**

* * *

Iris sighs as she pushes the door open to Honeyside. Her violet eyes widen, trying to see through the darkness.

" _Laas_ ," she Whispers. Seeing no one, she feels her way over to the lamp and uses her flames to light it, bathing the small house in a golden light.

Dropping her bag and cloak onto the kitchen table and heaving a sigh, she finds that she's happy to be home. After changing into her fur-lined pajamas, she aims her hand at the fireplace, creating a roaring fire. Humming to herself, she crosses the small room to her cabinet and grabs two bottles of alto wine and a wine glass. With another heavy sigh, she settles down in her chair, pouring herself a generous amount of wine and gulping it down. She's had a rough few weeks, and she needs to unwind.

Iris's body sinks deeper into her chair, loving the warmth burning on her face as she covers up with a blanket. She hasn't been warm in such a long while, she thinks. One of the things she misses most about Daggerfall. The warmth. She is not built to withstand the frigid ice land of Skyrim; she is a Breton, after all.

A wave of sadness and shame washes over her as her thoughts turn to Bryn's rejection. She grabs the bottle and pours herself another glass, singing softly to herself in an attempt to keep her mind off of it.

" _Dovahkiin, dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahrin wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal. Ahrk fin norok paal graan fod nust hon zindro zaan dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal_."

Honeyside quivers with the use of her Thu'um, but she doesn't care. The trailing notes of her Voice ring about the house, echoing eerily. Now, that she's alone, she can finally let herself break down. With a metaphorical axe, she hacks away at the wall in her head, allowing the grief and embarrassment flood her mind.

Tears immediately spring to her eyes as she pours herself another glass of wine. She's never felt so foolish. She wishes she had never kissed him. No matter how _right_ it felt, no matter how amazing it was, it wasn't worth how she feels now. She'd almost rather to wonder what would've happened than actually kiss him and feel his aching rejection.

She pushes herself out of her chai, stumbling a bit from the wine, and grabs her journal and the second bottle of wine before sitting back down.

 _I shouldn't have done it. Gods, I'm so stupid. I wish I hadn't done it. But he was just so close and I just—Gods damn it. I kissed Bryn. It was about a week ago. While I was still trying to recover from Mercer's stab wound. Bryn was redressing it for me when I just did it. I grabbed him and kissed him. Gods, it felt amazing, and I know he thought so, too. But—_

 _He pulled away—he pushed me away. He said we couldn't. I told him we could because Karliah didn't kill Gallus ,and Mercer isn't the Guildmaster anymore, but he didn't care. I was wrong about him. I thought we both felt the same about each other, but I guess not. I just feel so fucking stupid. It's hard to even be around him now. I feel like he's just waiting for me to try again, so he can reject me again. I should never have kissed him. Because now, when I look at him, that's all I can picture. I'm just so fucking disappointed, and I feel so stupid—no, I_ am _fucking stupid—why did I have to—_

Iris roars, throwing her wine glass against the wall, which shatters into a million pieces and sprinkles onto the floor as she collapses into sobs. She slams her journal closed and throws it across the room. Drawing her knees to her chest, she buries her face in her legs and lets herself cry in earnest.

"This is your own damn fault," she cries softly to herself, feeling absolutely pitiful.

But suddenly, a knock sounds on her door, the hollow wood echoing as she gasps, scared half to death.

"Lass?"

She curses under her breath when she hears the familiar voice penetrate the door. He's the absolute last person she wants to see right now. She violently swipes the tears from her face and looks at the broken glass in panic before getting down on her hands and knees and sweeping the glass into a small pile. She cries out when a shard slices her palm.

"Iris?" Another knock sounds, causing her to jump again.

Giving up on her cleaning, she wraps her hand in a cloth napkin and hurries to the door. She cracks it open, peering out through the narrow opening.

"H–hey, Bryn." She tries to smile.

His eyebrows immediately furrow. "Is everything okay?"

"What? Yeah, yeah. Everything's fine." She shoves another smile on her lips.

"You're being an uncharacteristically bad liar right now, lass." He tries to open the door, but she props her foot against it. His eyes narrow as he looks down at the door. "Iris."

"I'm fine, Bryn. About to go to bed, actually."

His eyes scan her face before looking behind her. "Is that why there's glass all over the floor?"

She opens her mouth, at a loss for words; everything's so foggy from the wine. He takes her off-guard and pushes the door open, catching her by the wrist when she stumbles backward.

"What happened?" His widened green eyes take in the broken glass and wine drops on the wall.

"I—It was an accident." She closes her eyes, trying to focus on not sounding inebriated. "Just knocked it over when I—when I was, uh, you know—"

Bryn's strong hands appear on her shoulders, and she forces her eyes open.

"Iris, have you been drinking?"

She lets out a scoff. "No."

He raises his eyebrows, giving her a knowing look. "Iris."

Sighing, she drops her gaze. "Just a little."

He frowns at her, not bothering to hide his disapproval. "We're supposed to meet Karliah tomorrow morning, remember?"

"I'll be fine." She waves her hand. "I don't get hungover." She shrugs. "It's a Dragonborn thing, I guess."

"That still doesn't give you cause to go through two bottles of wine by yourself, Iris," he says, frowning as he examines the remnants of the second bottle.

"I don't usually have two, though. I usually just have a glass before bed."

"Then why is tonight different? What's different?"

She doesn't answer, chewing on the inside of her cheek and avoiding his intense eyes.

"Iris, you can tell me."

"I almost died three different times, Bryn! All in a row! Almost dying is a little hard to deal with."

"But, lass, this isn't the way to deal with it."

"Everyone deals with things differently." She pushes his hands off of her, moving to stand in front of the blazing fire.

"You could always…talk to me about it, you know." Gentleness laces his voice.

She shakes her head, wrapping her arms around herself.

He comes up behind her. "Why not?"

"Why are you here?" It comes out harsher than she means it to.

He heaves a sigh. "I couldn't sleep in the cistern. I was going to ask if you could spare a bed but…"

Iris scoffs loudly. "Why would I agree to that?" She's being mean, she knows, but can't get herself to care.

"Well, uh, you have before but…"

She finally turns around, her eyes burning. "Almost dying wasn't the only reason behind those two bottles of wine, Bryn, and you know it. And then you come here and ask to stay over?" She shakes her head quickly, fighting back tears. "You can't do that to me."

"I–I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come."

"No, you shouldn't have." She pinches the bridge of her nose, letting out a shuddering breath. "You can't just come to me when it's convenient."

"What? No, Iris, that's not it at all." His eyes narrow in concern. "What happened last week—"

"I don't want to talk about that." Iris turns away, her stomach churning.

"I think we should."

She shakes her head, biting her lip to hold back tears. "I don't want to."

"Iris."

He appears in front of her and reaches a hand out to touch her arm. His eyebrows are low over his eyes, concern etched on every feature of his face.

"Can we just pretend it never happened? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—I just thought you—I–I don't know." She feels trapped under his eyes, losing her fight against her tears. "Please, I don't want to talk about it. Your blatant rejection already hurts enough as it is." She doesn't mean to say that part out loud, and she slams her mouth closed.

Shock writes itself on his face. "Lass, no. I–I wasn't…I wasn't rejecting you."

She scoffs. "That's what it felt like," she whispers.

He gently cups her cheek. "I wasn't," he says firmly. "Believe me, I want to just as much as you do."

"But you said we couldn't."

"That doesn't mean I don't wish we could." He carefully wipes a tear from her cheek. "I just…have to be the voice of reason, you know?"

"I still don't see why we can't just do it."

"You know we can't, lass."

"What if we just kept it a secret from the Guild?" Hope fills her violet eyes.

"We'd still face the same repercussions."

"We already are. You're already a distraction to me. I already put you before the Guild. Nothing would change if we just did it."

He hesitates, searching her face. "I know."

"I'm so tired of fighting this. We both know how we feel."

"I'm tired of fighting it, too, lass." He sighs, lightly tracing her cheekbone with his thumb.

"Then, let's just do it."

He watches her, hope flickering in his own eyes. "Let's wait until this whole mess with Mercer is over. It would be…inappropriate for everyone to find out now, don't you think?"

She sighs, but nods. "I guess so."

He grins softly, melting her heart. "Patience, lass."

"My weakness."

"And you're supposed to be a thief?" He brushes a lock of hair behind her ear. "You really shouldn't have drunk so much, though."

She rolls her eyes. "Bryn, it's fine."

He draws her into his arms. "I'm sorry, Iris. I should've been clearer when I stopped us. I was doing it for myself mostly. I thought you'd know how I really felt."

She sighs. "Don't make me feel even more stupid about it."

"Stupid?" he asks, pulling away and frowning.

She heaves another sigh, shaking her head. "After that happened, I thought….well, I thought maybe you didn't feel how I did."

"Meaning?"

She shrugs. "I thought…I thought you didn't care about me after all. That you didn't want to be together, like I did. And still do."

He takes her face in his hands and kisses her forehead. "I'm sorry. I wanted it to keep going. It took everything in me to stop." His thumb lightly traces her lips. "Even now…it's so damn hard to keep myself…"

Her heart pounding, Iris's bright eyes gaze into his. "Then, don't."

"You've been drinking, Iris."

"I can still think clearly enough."

"We shouldn't. We should wait until this is all over."

"One kiss won't hurt, Bryn," she breathes, bringing her hand up to rest on his arm.

She watches as his eyes flit downward to rest upon her lips before looking back into hers.

He gives her a sort of bashful smile before muttering, "Fuck it."

Then, he closes the small gap between them and kisses her full on the mouth. Right as their lips touch, Iris feels sparks fly around them. She pulls him closer as he moves his lips almost hungrily against hers. Her heart pounds rapidly, gradually speeding up, as he rises in intensity. They stumble back, Iris's back pressed up against the wall as he moves to pepper kisses down her neck. Her head tilts back, her breath coming out in a shudder, before tilting back down to meet his lips again. She laughs softly as he moves one hand to behind her knees, the other on her back, and lifts her easily into his arms. They move toward the bed; Iris swipes her journal off the sheets when he sets her down. He joins her, their lips never parting, on the bed, his hand tangling in her hair. Iris's poor heart feels like it's going to flutter straight out of her chest. She wraps her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

But they have to part eventually. Both breathing heavily, the two thieves face each other with growing smiles. Laughing, Iris falls back onto her pillow.

"I'm not complaining, Bryn, but you need to learn to count," she pants.

He lays down next to her, a smile on his face. "Aye, I lost count."

She grins at him, pulling the blankets over herself. "You can stay," she tells him. "We can travel to the Stone together."

He nods, a crooked smile on his face as he joins her underneath the blankets. "If I had known all of that was going to happen, I would've been over here sooner."

She nudges him with her elbow. "And you're the one who was fighting it."

"Well, of course. You're the clever one, remember?"

* * *

 **YAY! FINALLY! :D**

 **I wish I could say this is how their relationship stays, but...let's just say Iris and Bryn have hard times ahead of them. MWAHAHA**

 **As always, thank you so, so much for reading, and be sure to favorite, follow, and review!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hi, everyone! I tried splitting this chapter up, but it just didn't work. So, surprise, you get a super long chapter! Yay!**

 **Special thanks to Manu, Ktonicle, and 'Guest' for the reviews!**

* * *

She wakes up wrapped in his arms. She sighs softly, happily, relishing in his warm touch. It's the best sleep she's ever gotten, warm and comfortable and blissful in his embrace. Their legs tangle together, and his steady, even breaths blow her hair, tickling her neck. Careful as to not wake him, she slowly rolls over, facing him, and smiles at his peaceful face. She brushes a strand of hair from his face and settles deeper into her pillow, her eyes on him. But a wave of sleepiness hits her again, and her eyes fall closed once more.

—

When she awakens again, the space beside her is cold, though sunlight pours in through the windows. A drop of disappointment plunks into her heart until she hears bustling in the kitchen. She rolls over, squinting against the sunlight, and finds him standing in the kitchen, putting the kettle over the fire.

"Good morning." He grins at her.

A smile touches her lips as she stretches. "What are you doing?"

He holds up two mugs, his smile growing. "Making tea."

She laughs, pushing the blankets off of herself and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"How domestic of you." She chuckles.

"If I don't, I'll fall asleep on the way to the Standing Stone today." He crosses the room, sitting beside her on the bed. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did. Very well, actually." Looking forward, she suddenly notices that all her books have fallen off her bookshelf again. "Damn it," she mutters, standing to place them back upon the shelf. "This happens almost every night."

"Probably because you were Shouting in your sleep again."

"I was?"

He nods, pointing at the books. "It shook the whole house and made your books fall off the shelf."

"How often do I do that?"

He shrugs, grinning. "Probably every night. You did it a lot when you were unconscious in Winterhold. That's how I found out about you."

"Oh." She frowns delicately. "That could be a problem. Does anyone else in the Guild know?"

"Not that I know of."

"Okay, good."

He stands, taking the kettle off the fire. "I still don't understand why you don't want anyone to know."

"I already told you, Bryn. I don't want to be treated any differently. I don't like being defined by one word, one silly legend. Sure, I'm the Dragonborn, but I'm so much more than that. I don't want to get stuck in that title."

He nods, pouring tea into the ready mugs. "I suppose that makes sense."

She stands up, joining him at the kitchen table. "I'm still coming to terms with being the Dragonborn myself. I'm not ready for everyone to know."

He touches her hand, weaving his fingers between hers. "Your secret is safe with me, lass."

"Thanks." She sips her tea, already waking up. "What do you think Karliah is going to have us do once we get to the Stone?"

He shrugs. "No idea. Karliah is a very secretive lass. Though not as much as you."

Iris grins bashfully.

They finish their tea and change into their armor. Iris hunts around for her journal, wondering where it fell when she swiped it from her bed.

"Hey, Bryn, have you seen my—"

"Journal?" he finishes, holding it up.

"Yes, actually." She chuckles, taking it from him and stuffing it in her bag before donning her fur-lined cloak. "Alright, let's go."

He opens the door to Honeyside, stepping outside and waiting as she locks the door behind them. Then, off they go to the Standing Stone.

* * *

"Delvin, we have a problem," Vex tells her fellow thief as she sits down at his table.

"We have many problems, Vex. To which are you referring?"

"No, I mean we have a new problem."

He gives her an exasperated look. "Spit it out, Vex."

"I saw Brynjolf leaving Iris's house this morning."

He shrugs. "So?"

She levels her gaze. "I also saw him going there last night."

Delvin's smug expression changes to concern.

"Shit. You don't think they…?"

Vex throws her hands up. "I don't know. I know something was happening between them, I just didn't know if it went further than friendship."

"But this is Bryn we're talking about. He knows the rules."

"He thought she died. Now, she's back, so who knows? If he's afraid he'll lose her again, he might break the rules. You've seen how they act toward each other."

"But they've never acted on it."

"Exactly, Delvin, but now I'm saying I think they did. Why else would he stay the night at her place?" She leans back in her chair, sighing. "We need to talk to them."

"Are you sure this is the best time? We already have this whole thing with Mercer—"

"We can't afford additional problems. Mercer has to be number one. We can't have our two most skilled thieves traipsing around and, you know."

Delvin nods slowly. "Fine. I guess it's best to get this resolved before it goes any further. We should have stopped them earlier though."

"Before they acted like friends. But now…" She shakes her head. "Did you see how closely they were standing yesterday?"

Delvin chuckles. "Sounds like someone might be jealous."

She scoffs. "Please, Delvin. The Guild is my family. And I don't believe in incest. Plus, he's not my type."

"Right. You like the big, bad, intimidating kind of men like Vald, don't you?"

She rolls her eyes. "Let's not bring him up. Let's just focus on getting those two in here as soon as possible and giving them a little talk."

* * *

"And they actually bought the damn things?" Iris's eyes widen in amusement.

Brynjolf nods. "Aye, they did. And we even put Brand-Shei away at the same time."

Iris laughs, shaking her head. "I never knew you actually sold some of those potions. I guess I was too focused on Brand-Shei."

"I was a little distracted, too, now that I think of it." He gives her a flirtatious smile, causing her to blush.

He loves teasing her, flirting with her. She's a pro at it and fun to banter back and forth with. Yet another one of his favorite things about her. He smiles softly, watching as she frowns at the map, trying to figure out where the Standing Stone is. His eyes linger on her lips, remembering how they felt against his just last night. Gods, he shouldn't have done it, but he finds no regret in him whatsoever. His brain and heart have been fighting for so long, with his brain always winning, that it was amazing to let his heart have the upper hand for once. Though he told her that they should wait until after they deal with Mercer, he has a a feeling he is going to have a hard time keeping his lips off hers. Especially after she offered to let him stay over at Honeyside whenever he wanted. So much for putting the Guild first.

They finally find the Standing Stone, spotting Karliah's figure leaning against it. She straightens up as they approach.

"Hi," Iris greets her with a smile.

"I'm glad you're here," Karliah almost smiles back. Brynjolf supposes she's forgotten how.

Iris peers at the massive Stone, her eyebrows furrowing delicately.

"What's the significance of this place?"

"This is the headquarters of the Nightingales, cut into the mountainside by the first of our kind. We've come to seek the edge we need to defeat Mercer Frey."

"What kind of an edge?" Brynjolf questions.

"If you'll follow me, I'll try to explain on the way."

Karliah moves toward the mouth of a cave, Iris in tow and Brynjolf behind her.

"Are we going to become Nightingales?" Iris asks.

Karliah stops, turning to face them both. "It's my hope that you will, yes."

The three duck into the cave and begin to move through the tunnels.

"So, this is Nightingale Hall," Brynjolf muses, looking around him at the stone walls. "I heard about this place when I joined the Guild, but I never believed it existed."

"The assumption that the Nightingales were just a myth was seeded within the Guild on purpose. It helped avert attention from our true nature," Karliah explains.

Brynjolf frowns, meeting eyes with Iris when she turns to glance at him over her shoulder. She begins to move her lips, probably to ask what is bothering him, but Karliah beats her to it.

"What's wrong, Brynjolf? I can almost hear your brow furrowing."

"I'm trying to understand why I'm here, I suppose. I'm no priest, and I'm certainly not religious. Why pick me?"

Iris reaches back to squeeze his hand as Karliah responds.

"This isn't about religion…it's business."

They follow the tunnels until they open up into a massive cavern, lit dimly with torches upon the walls.

"This is Nightingale Hall," Karliah says proudly. "You're the first of the uninitiated to set foot inside in over a century."

He meets eyes with Iris who is wearing a shocked expression, mirroring his own.

"If you'll both proceed to the armory to don your Nightingale armor, we can begin the Oath."

He follows Iris into a side room, in which three stone pedestals rest at the front of the room. He notices a folded black fabric resting upon the stand.

"Look, Bryn." Iris holds an intricately designed black outfit in front of herself. "Nightingale armor."

He unfolds his and finds an identical outfit. "We'll be matching," he laughs.

"We already are," Iris points out, gesturing to their Thieves Guild armor.

She begins to slowly unbuckle her armor, facing away from him, and he does the same. He changes into the Nightingale armor, liking how flexible it feels.

He can't resist glancing behind him at her, and he's surprised to find her doing the same, a smile forming on her face when she sees him watching.

"Eyes to yourself, Bryn." She smirks.

"Oi, don't act like you weren't looking, too," he retorts.

Her smile widens, her top teeth trapping her bottom lip. "Can you do the back of this?" She tilts her head, fluttering her eyelashes.

 _Damn, she's good at this._

"Of course." He crosses over to her, swallowing thickly when he notices her bare back peeking out from under her armor. He lets his fingers lightly brush against her skin as he buckles her armor, smiling to himself when she shivers slightly. "Done."

"Thanks." She turns back around, grinning at him. "This is comfortable." She glances behind her. "Wait, there's one more piece." She holds out two helmets.

"Oh…" He chuckles softly, taking his and putting it on. He laughs when she does the same.

"I'm surprised we can see out of these. I can't see your face at all," she laughs.

"That is the point of a mask," he points out.

Even though she can't see his face, she still manages to pick up on his frown.

"What's wrong?"

He shrugs. "I'm just…I'm not so sure about this."

"Why not?"

He gestures around him. "This kind of thing…I'm not…special or anything. I'm not like you. I'm not the type to become something like this."

She shakes her head. "I wasn't the type either, and it turned out that I'm the Dragonborn. Sometimes…sometimes things like this choose you instead of you choosing them."

"I suppose you're right."

She nudges him lightly. "When else will you be able to become a guardian of Nocturnal's Sepulcher?"

"That's true," he grins. He crouches down to grab his bag, hoisting it onto his shoulder.

She holsters her sword on her belt, pulling the gloves on.

He turns to leave the armory before Iris's voice stops him.

"And Bryn?"

He stops, spinning around to face her.

"You are special." He can hear the smile in her voice as she closes the gap between them. "I don't spend my precious time with just anyone."

He chuckles softly, touching her upper arm. "Thanks, lass."

—

They rejoin Karliah in a hall lined with torches.

"Okay, Karliah," Brynjolf starts. "We've got these getups on…now what?"

"Beyond this gate is the first step in becoming a Nightingale," Karliah gestures to the gate ahead of them.

He lets his breath out in a whoosh. "About that, Karliah, I'm not sure if I'm…qualified for that. It's kind of a big step, you know?"

"To hold any hope of defeating Mercer, we must have Nocturnal at our backs," Karliah answer without missing a beat. "If she's to accept you as one of her own, an arrangement must be struck."

"What sort of arrangement? I need to know the terms."

"The terms are quite simple, Brynjolf. Nocturnal will allow you to become a Nightingale and use your abilities for whatever you wish. And in return, bot in life and in death, you must serve as a guardian of the Twilight Sepulcher."

"Aye, there's always a catch," he sighs. "But at this point, I suppose there isn't much to lose. And if it means the end of Mercer Frey, you can count me in."

Karliah nods tersely, turning to Iris. "What about you, Iris? Are you ready to transact the Oath with Nocturnal?"

She nods. "Yes, I'm ready."

"Good. After I open the gate, please stand on the western circle, and Brynjolf on the eastern circle."

Karliah opens the gate, moving into another room.

Iris lingers behind, grabbing Brynjolf's hand.

"This is enough to make your head spin, eh?" he grins at her, not that she can see it.

She nods, letting out a breath. "Yeah. And that's saying something. I've seen some crazy shit."

He chuckles lightly, following her into the next room. He gasps, taking in the sight before him. Three pedestals branch off from the center, each with a glyph inscribed in the stone floor. Behind each pedestal is a waterfall, the water churning up white foam at the bottom. He reluctantly lets go of Iris's hand, taking his place on one of the pedestals. Once in place, Karliah raises her arms, her face upturned, and begins to speak.

"I call upon you, Lady Nocturnal, Queen of Murk and Empress of Shadow…hear my voice!"

Brynjolf watches in amazement as a burst of light floods the cavern, leaving behind a shadowy mass of purple floating in the center of the room. Nocturnal.

"Ah, Karliah," Nocturnal croons, Her voice echoing throughout the cavern. "I was wondering when I'd hear from you again. Lose something, did we?"

Karliah kneels, down onto one knee. "My Lady, I've come before you to throw myself upon your mercy and to accept responsibility for my failure."

Though he can't see her face, he knows Iris is looking at him. He meets her gaze, knowing what she is thinking; this is crazy. They're speaking to a Daedric Prince. Though Iris has apparently had encounters with them before, he supposes one never gets truly used to communicating with the Daedra.

"You're already mine, Karliah. Your terms were struck long ago. What could you possibly offer me now?" Nocturnal demands.

"I have two others that wish to transact the Oath; to serve you both in life and in death," Karliah replies.

He swears he feels Nocturnal turn to gaze at him and Iris.

"You surprise me, Karliah. This offer is definitely weighted in my favor."

"My appetite for Mercer's demise exceeds my craving for wealth, Your Grace."

"Revenge?" Nocturnal hums. "How interesting…Very well, the conditions are acceptable. You may proceed."

Karliah gets to her feet, placing her left hand over her heart. "Lady Nocturnal, we accept your terms. We dedicate ourselves to you as both your avengers and your sentinels. We will honor our agreement in this life and the next until your conditions have been met."

Nocturnal turns to gaze at Iris, chuckling softly. "You've caused quite the clamor, little Liriiette. Boethiah has been unbearable ever since you slaughtered Her cult."

"I–I—"

"Yet Azura speaks highly of you, you who cleansed Her Star." Nocturnal hums. "I am curious to see what you will bring forth as one of my Nightingales."

Iris bows her head; Brynjolf notices her clenched hands.

"Very well, Karliah," Nocturnal addresses the Dunmer once more. "I name your initiates Nightingales, and I restore your status to the same, Karliah. And in the future, I'd suggest you refrain from disappointing me again." With that, the purple fog disappears, imploding upon itself.

The cavern rings with silence, each of them trying to recover from what just passed. Brynjolf glances at Iris, watching as she pulls the mask from her face and swipes a hand across her eyes. The three Nightingales rejoin at the center of the room.

"Well, now that you've transacted the Oath, it's time to reveal the final piece of the puzzle to you; Mercer's true crime," Karliah tells them.

Iris groans. "He's done more? Gods."

"Mercer was able to unlock the Guild's vault without two keys because of what he stole from the Sepulcher. The Skeleton Key. By doing this, he's compromised our ties to Nocturnal and in essence, caused our luck to run dry."

Brynjolf shakes his head, smiling wryly. "Damn it. Delvin was right after all."

"Wait, so the Key unlocks any door?" Iris asks.

"Well, yes. But the Key isn't only restricted to physical barriers. All of us possess untapped abilities; the potential to wield great power, securely sealed within our minds. Once you realize the Key can access these traits, the potential becomes limitless," Karliah answers.

"We have to get it back from him." Iris's hands clench into fists.

"Yes. If the Key isn't returned to its lock in the Twilight Sepulcher, things will never be the same for the Guild. As time passed, our luck would diminish to the point of non-existence. And whether you know it or not, our uncanny luck defines our trade."

Brynjolf chuckles. "First time we ever set out to return something…"

"Very true. In our line of work, it's quite rare we set out to return a stolen item to its rightful owner."

"Then, let's go," Iris says with determination.

Karliah places a hand on her arm. "Wait. Before we depart, Brynjolf has some business to discuss. I suggest you listen to him."

Iris's violet eyes meet his green in confusion. He removes the mask, fully facing her.

"Listen, Iris. There's one last piece of business we need to settle before we go after Mercer…the leadership of the Guild."

"Okay…" Her eyebrows knit in confusion. "Why are you telling me this? Won't leadership pass to you?"

He glances at Karliah. "Well, Karliah and I had a long discussion last night after you left. Thanks to your efforts, Mercer's treachery has been exposed. After we deal with him, all that remains is restoring the Guild to its full strength. As a result…" He pauses, grinning softly at her. "We both feel that you have the potential of replacing Mercer as leader of the Thieves Guild."

Iris's jaw drops. "What? Me? What—what about you?"

He smiles crookedly. "I've been at this game a long time, love. A long time. I've stolen trinkets from nobles and framed priests for murder. I'm good at what I do, maybe even one of the best. But…it's all I know. I've never been one to lead. Never desired it, never cared for it. I don't want it."

"But I…damn, I–I don't know what to say."

He chuckles, placing his hands on her slim shoulders. "Well, we have a bit of an errand to run before your coronation, so don't get sentimental on me now."

She finally smiles, albeit nervously. "Okay. I–I accept."

"Then, it's decided. When this is all over and Delvin's contacts assure me that we've regained our footing in Skyrim, we'll handle the details. But until then, we have quite the task ahead."

She nods slowly, seemingly still in shock. "Let's get to it."

He drops his hands, addressing his fellow Nightingales. "I've been poring over the plans you brought us, and I'm convinced the Eyes of the Falmer are in the dwarven ruins at Irkngthand. Karliah is going to meet us there. We'll need to prepare ourselves, lass. This will be a fight to remember!"

"Yes, it will." Iris turns to Karliah. "Thank you, Karliah."

"Of course. I'll see you both at Irkngthand."

Iris turns to Brynjolf, her eyes still wide. "I guess we're Nightingales now, huh?"

He sighs. "Aye. And some of what Karliah said is starting to make more sense. Mercer may have damaged our reputation and raided our coffers, but this goes well beyond even his twisted form of larceny. Old Delvin kept calling it a curse, and we all laughed at him. Looks like the joke's on us."

"Yeah," she breathes.

He shifts his feet, licking his lips. "Lass, what Nocturnal said…"

Her eyes snap up to his, the violet filled with something like fear. "What—" She clears her throat. "What about it?"

"You just…you didn't tell me everything about Boethiah."

She looks down, studying her boots. "I didn't think you needed to know."

"Will you tell me what happened?"

She shrugs. "I'm not proud of what I did, Bryn."

"Nocturnal said you slaughtered Boethiah's cult?"

"Yeah." She lifts her head, meeting his eyes. "I did."

"You killed all of them?"

She nods solemnly. "They demanded a sacrifice for Boethiah, and I didn't comply. I-I just was so disgusted by them, wanting me to bring an innocent person to murder just to speak to their God, that I…I lost control. I didn't stop until they were all dead. Boethiah appeared and was…very angry with me. She demanded a sacrifice and I said no. I ran. Been running ever since."

"How do you run from a Daedric Prince?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. But it's worked so far."

"Thank you for telling me."

She nods, becoming tired. "Let's get back to Riften. I need to restock on everything before we go after Mercer."

* * *

 **Ah, so much has happened! And now, they're finally going after Mercer. Ooohhh, there's so much more drama to come!**

 **Thanks so much for reading, and thank you to everyone who followed, favorited, and left reviews last week! If you haven't, please favorite,** **follow, and review! It honestly means the world to me!**

 **Until next time!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hi, everyone! I apologize in advance for how short this chapter is :( I tried splitting them up differently, but I had to keep this one this length. So, I'm sorry!**

 **Thank you to Mia78 for the reviews!**

 **Here's Chapter 13!**

* * *

"I wish we could wear our Nightingale armor in the Guild," Iris muses, shifting the bundle in her arms.

"Aye, me too. It's so much easier to move in than our Guild armor."

The two Nightingales arrive at Honeyside, and Iris takes her key from her pocket, unlocking the door. Bryn and Iris walk inside, stowing their Nightingale armor in the chest by her bed.

"How far is Irknghand from here?" she asks, stepping back outside.

"About a nine-hour walk."

She closes the door behind him, locking it and intending to go with him to the market to stock up on supplies. But a certain someone approaches them.

"Vex?" Bryn spots their fellow thief before she does.

"You two heading to the Flagon?" Vex asks, crossing her arms.

"Oh, we were actually going to stop by the market—"

"Come to the Flagon first. Delvin and I need to talk to both of you," Vex interrupts her.

"Is everything okay?" Bryn's eyebrows furrow.

"Just be there as soon as you can. It's important." Vex glares at Iris before stalking off.

"What was that all about?" Iris wonders, watching Vex disappear into the cemetery before hearing the stone-on-stone sound of the sarcophagus opening.

"No idea." He fidgets nervously. "But we should probably go at once. Maybe they have information about Mercer."

"But we already know where he is."

"But they don't know that yet."

She nods, following him to the cemetery.

"Looks like the market will have to wait," she comments, pulling the chain and closing the sarcophagus above them, bathing them in darkness. "And killing Mercer."

"Just for a little. I doubt this will take long." He sighs. "I don't know why I'm nervous."

"Maybe we're getting kicked out of the Guild." She smirks, shrugging. "Their loss. I would've been a hell of a Guildmaster."

He smiles, squeezing her arm. "Let's get down there and find out."

—

"Any word on Mercer?" Rune asks Iris as she descends the ladder.

She shakes her head. "Nothing. I'm starting to worry we won't be able to find him."

"Don't lose hope yet, lass," Bryn tells her.

The two Nightingales move around the Cistern, heading to the Flagon.

"Is it bad that it's easy to lie to them?" Iris whispers.

"It was easy for you to lie to me, wasn't it?"

She cringes, opening her mouth to spew out another apology.

"I didn't mean it like that, lass. I'm just saying, it's always been easy for you to lie. Which can be a good thing, but only if I know you've told me the truth."

"I'm sorry, Bryn."

"You don't have to apologize." He nods to the door to the Flagon. "Let's go see what they want."

* * *

"Have a seat," Vex gestures sarcastically to two chairs set up across from hers and Delvin's. She narrows her eyes when she notices how closely Iris and Bryn stand. Not for much longer, she thinks.

The two lovers sit down, eyeing each other warily.

"What's this all about, Vex?" Bryn asks, leaning back in his chair. "Did you find out where Mercer is?"

"No. This is different," Delvin answers instead. He takes a deep breath. "Vex and I have some…concerns. Regarding you two."

Vex smiles smugly to herself when she spots Iris stiffen ever so slightly.

"What about us?" she asks, her voice sounding completely unperturbed.

"I received word that you were spotted going to Iris's, and that you didn't leave until the next morning," Vex addresses Bryn. "The Guild is in a bad spot right now. We can't afford another Gallus and Karliah."

"We didn't—"

"With this whole Mercer thing, we can't afford for two of our best thieves to become distracted and muck everything up," Vex speaks over the Breton's protests.

"Vex and I think it best that you don't see each other outside of the Guild," Delvin interjects.

Bryn laughs mirthlessly. "What is this, an intervention? You don't have the right to tell us when we can see each other."

"We can't risk Mercer getting away because of this…thing between you."

"There's nothing going on between us," Iris states assuredly. "Believe me. Yes, he's my best friend, and yes, sometimes he stays the night because he can't sleep in the Cistern, but that doesn't mean we're…you know." Iris shakes her head.

Vex studies Iris's face. If Vex didn't know any better, she'd think Iris was telling the truth. But she does know better.

"Even so, it's best for the Guild if you don't see each other outside of here," she stands her ground. "Just in case."

"But we've been looking for Mercer. How do you expect us to do that if we're not allowed to see each other?" Bryn asks, his voice hardened.

"Bring your separate findings here. We'll debrief each other," Delvin says.

"But that's just a waste of time. It'd be much more efficient if—"

"That's the end of it. If we find out you've broken this rule, drastic measures will be taken," Vex threatens.

Iris scoffs. "Drastic measures? What, will you kick us out of the Guild?"

"Yes, actually." She watches smugly as Iris's true expression finally breaks through her mask.

"This is ridiculous—"

"Everyone is in agreement, Brynjolf," Delvin says gently.

"You can't do this," Iris snarls.

Bryn places a hand on her arm, shaking his head. "They can, lass."

Vex grins as the blood drains from Iris's pretty face.

She turns back to Vex and Delvin.

"Okay, well, is that all? Or do you have any other concerns?" she sneers.

"No. That's all."

Iris and Bryn get to their feet; the Breton approaches her and Delvin.

"I nearly died for the Guild, and I'd do it again. If that doesn't tell you what I put first, then that's your fucking problem—"

"Iris." Brynjolf finds Iris's arm and guides her away, out of the Flagon.

Sighing, Vex looks to Delvin.

"Well, that went well," he utters sarcastically. "That Iris is one hell of a firecracker."

"I still don't like her."

* * *

"They can't do this, Bryn," Iris sputters, pacing back and forth. "Threatening to kick us out of the Guild? We have to see each other outside of the Guild! We're Nightingales now! We have to meet Karliah at Irkngthand! If they find out we went—"

"Iris, calm down." He catches her shoulders. "They can do it, and they did. There's nothing we can do about it now."

"Oh, so you're just going to go along with it? It isn't right, Bryn. I mean, I'd understand if we were in an actual relationship, but we aren't. They don't even have solid proof!"

"I know, love. I know. Just—" He stops, swiping a hand over his eyes and groaning. "We shouldn't have let it get this far." He opens his eyes to find Iris's filled with hurt.

"Do you regret it?" she asks in a small voice.

"No. Never," he tells her firmly. "Maybe we should have tried harder to hide it."

"I didn't know it was obvious to everyone else. I mean, I didn't think anyone would notice us."

He laughs softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's hard for people to not notice you, Iris. You have this…air of mystery, allure. Not to mention the fact that you're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes upon _and_ the best damn thief to join in decades."

She scoffs lightly, looking away.

He gently places a finger under her chin, turning her face toward his. "It'll be alright, love."

She shakes her head. "You don't know that."

"Iris. Trust me. It will all be alright." His thumb strokes her cheek, and he longs for her lips on his again. But he forces himself to let go of her and to take a step back.

She watches him with sad eyes, knowing that it has to be done.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes. "This is all my fault. After I thought you had…died, I…I didn't really deal well with it. I started messing up jobs; I was getting sloppy. I just…couldn't stop thinking about you and what I'd lost. And then I found you again, alive. It was like a second chance. I wasn't strong enough to keep myself from you. I'm still not. The others saw how…distracted I was after your death, they knew I'd jump right back in after we found out the truth. I should've…kept myself from doing it. But I was selfish. And now I've put you in jeopardy."

"I don't care." She grips his arm, her gaze intense. "When I was lying there in the snow, bleeding out from Mercer's stab wound, the first person I thought of was you. I thought of how it'd be for you if I died, and it broke my heart. I was filled with regret for what we never acted on and sadness for never being able to. But then I woke up, and I was alive, and you were there. The Gods had you find me for a reason, Bryn. That wasn't just a coincidence. I'll respect your decision if you don't want to risk getting kicked out of the Guild; I know how important it is to you. But know that I'd be willing to take that risk, if you ever decide you want to. But I won't be upset if you choose not to. It's a big risk to take. Just know I'm here if you ever want me."

"I don't want to make you wait for me. You shouldn't have to."

"I want to." She stares up at him with her gorgeous violet eyes. "I'll let you think about it, of course. For now, we have bigger things to worry about. Like Mercer. And the fact that your armor is at my house." She cracks a small smile, which he returns.

"We're Nightingales, Iris. I'm sure Nocturnal will help us slip in and out unnoticed." He lightly kisses her cheek. "Thank you."

"Anything for you."

He'll think about her offer, for sure. He just needs to think of all the cons of no longer being a part of the Guild so he can prepare himself.

* * *

 **Uh oh, I told you things wouldn't stay the same between them! Forbidden love! My favorite kind :D**

 **Thanks so much for reading, and be sure to favorite, follow, and review!**


	14. Chapter 14

Bryn and Iris managed to slip into her house unnoticed. They avoided the windows, ducked down to make sure they wouldn't be seen together. He made it fun, almost like a game. Despite the dire consequences of potentially getting caught, he still managed to make her laugh nearly hysterically as they snuck around her house. It's another reason why she's so enamored by him, she thinks.

But now, being in the Riften marketplace without him, it feels so strange. Iris sighs sadly, moving to the next stall to stock up on arrows. She and Bryn were known as inseparable. Always seen together. Best friends. And now? She feels like she's forgotten something. Like she's gone trekking through a Draugr burrow and forgot to bring her sword.

"Thank you," she grins at the warrior, despite her scowl, stuffing the arrows into the quiver on her back.

"Yeah, yeah."

She checks off her mental checklist, moving to the last stall to stock up on potions. After buying a few archery, sneak, invisibility, and health potions, Iris decides that her bulging bag is ready for Irkngthand. Hoisting it higher up onto her cloak-covered shoulder, she heads to the Riften gates. She agreed to meet Bryn in the Nightingale Sanctuary and wait until night to head to Irkngthand. She only hopes that no thieves happen to be outside the gates at that time. She feels eyes upon her as she reaches the gates, and sure enough, Sapphire steps out of the shadows.

"Gods, you scared me," Iris tells the dark-haired thief, pressing her hand over her heart.

"Where are you off to?" Sapphire asks.

"Where else? Trying to find out where that bastard went."

"Do you have any leads?"

Iris shakes her head dejectedly. "I wish. I can't believe he stole from us. Everything. Plus he also tried to kill me. He's on my shit list for sure."

Sapphire chuckles. "Mine, too. Listen…I heard about you and Brynjolf." She shakes her head. "It doesn't seem fair. I mean, I get where they're coming from, but you aren't Karliah, and he isn't Gallus. And Mercer is out of the picture for now. Just…be careful, okay? I'd hate for you to get kicked out of the Guild. You're the best damned thing to happen to it in forever, and if we lose you? The Guild would suffer."

Iris shakes her head. "We aren't seeing each other. We've always just been friends."

Sapphire grins. "Sure you are. Just be careful. And good luck looking for Mercer. Gods know we haven't had much yet."

Iris says her goodbyes and leaves the city, heading to the Hall.

—

He's sitting on the stone bridge when she enters the Hall, his legs dangling over the churning water.

"Delivery!" she calls out, setting her full bag down with a slump.

"Damn, did you buy everything in the market?" he laughs, as she joins him on the bridge.

"Just about. I think I got everything. Potions, arrows, extra daggers…we should be good." She leans her head on his shoulder. "I ran into Sapphire on the way out."

"Oh?"

"She said that she didn't agree with what Vex and Delvin did."

"You didn't give anything away, did you?"

"Of course not, Bryn. Sapphire is a terrific liar. It's just sad that we can't trust them anymore."

"I know." He winds his arm around her shoulders.

"Do you think…after we kill Mercer and I become Guildmaster…do you think we'll be allowed to see each other outside the Guild? Or would that be considered abusing my power?"

She watches his face furrow in thought.

"I'm not sure, lass. It might not be a good idea to lift our little ban right away. But maybe eventually."

"It's so stupid."

"I know."

"What will we tell them after we kill Mercer? Surely they won't kick us out the Guild for going to kill him?"

"It's Guild business. It shouldn't count as seeing each other outside the Guild."

She nods.

"We better get some sleep in before we head out. Nine hours of walking straight into a Dwemer ruin? We'll need all the energy we can muster."

She follows him into the private quarters, settling in on one of the beds. "Good night."

"Sleep well, love."

* * *

Brynjolf awakens right as the sun sets below the horizon. He blearily shuffles to Iris's bed, gently shaking her awake.

"Iris."

She hums quietly, pulling the blankets over her head.

Chuckling, he uncovers her, stroking her hair.

"Wake up, sleepy head."

"I didn't realize how tired I was," she mutters against her pillow. She pries one eye open. "Is it time?"

"Aye."

She sighs, sitting up. "Fine."

* * *

"Karliah," Iris greets the Dunmer, panting and wiping blood off her sword. Her voice echoes throughout the halls of Irkngthand.

"Mercer's been here. I hope we aren't too late," Karliah tells them seriously.

"Those bandits back there…"

"I found them like that. Mercer's doing. We have to catch up to him before it's too late. "If he gets a hold of those Eyes, we'll never see him again."

Iris places a comforting hand on her arm. "We'll find him. Come on."

"We should tread carefully," Brynjolf says. "I wouldn't be surprised if he's left behind a few surprises for us."

The Trio sneaks through the massive ruins until they come to a half-moon surface, surrounded by golden bars looking out into an immense cavern.

"Wait a moment…" Karliah sneaks up to the edge. "What's that? It's Mercer! Look…down there."

Iris follows her gaze, finding Mercer stealthily approaching an unsuspecting Falmer.

"I'm on it," Brynjolf disappears from view, no doubt looking for a way to get down there. "Damn it. There's no way through."

Iris watches Mercer stabs the Falmer with his golden sword. "He's toying with us."

"He wants us to follow," Karliah spits.

"Aye. And we'll be ready for him." Brynjolf approaches the two women. "Let's keep moving."

* * *

Iris considers herself to be a sort of expert on maneuvering through ancient ruins. She's been to countless ruins in search of Dragon Priest masks and new Thu'ums. She's used to diving into the depths of long forgotten civilizations. Which is why she's so surprised when she is forced to take another health potion to keep herself from falling to her knees in exhaustion. Draugr are one thing. Falmer, Dwemer contraptions, and Chaurus are a whole, new story.

"You okay, love?" Bryn asks, gripping her arm.

"Yeah, fine." She shakes her head, gripping her sword. "This is harder than I thought it'd be."

"Aye. I agree. Take a second to catch your breath. We don't want to overdo it."

"Yeah. I thought this would be easier. Like I collect Dragon Priest masks. It's hard, but not like this. And—" Iris's voice is cut off when a rumbling shakes the ground, stones falling from the ceiling. She barely pushes Bryn out of the way in time, a boulder crashing down where he was standing.

"He must be collapsing that tower!" Karliah shouts.

Iris coughs as the dust settles, coating her hair.

"By the Nine, lass. You saved my life," Bryn pants.

"You saved mine," she quips back, smiling. "Okay. Let's get back to it." She eyes the fallen tower. "Looks like we can't go that way anymore. Damn Mercer to Oblivion."

The Nightingales continue on their way, fighting through hoards of Falmer and even a Dwarven Centurion. They all need a breather after that one. After the battle, Iris nurses her side gingerly; the blasted contraption had decided to swing its enormous arm at her, hitting her right where her new scar forms and sending her flying across the cavern, her back slamming into the hard stone. She struggles to her feet, wincing and downing another health potion before handing two more to her companions.

"I fucking hate this place."

Bryn can't help but chuckle, accepting the potion and drinking it quickly.

"You're not the only one," Karliah agrees. "But I think we're almost there."

"How can you tell?" Bryn asks, his brow furrowing.

She shrugs. "I don't know. I can just…feel it."

Suddenly, Iris gasps. "Karliah." She points to the Dunmer's side, droplets of blood splattering onto the ancient stone.

Karliah gasps, as if suddenly noticing the pain. She lets out a moan as she falls to her knees, her arm wrapped around her side.

While Bryn crouches down beside Karliah, Iris rummages around in her bag for a roll of bandages.

"Here." She wraps the Dunmer's side and gives her another potion.

"That damned thing must have hit me, and I was too focused to notice."

"Are you alright?" Iris's eyes widen in worry.

Karliah nods as Bryn helps her to her feet. "Yes. Though I'm afraid I may not be much help in defeating Mercer. I'm okay to continue, but I may not fare well in a fight against him."

Iris watches her, her eyebrows furrowed. "I hate to say this, but maybe you should wait at the entrance for us. I don't know what lies ahead but—"

"He's close. I'm certain of it," Karliah interrupts her. She sighs, closing her eyes. "I fear you're correct, Iris. As much as I would love to partake in our revenge scheme, I am in no fit state to do so."

"We'll avenge Gallus for you, Karliah." Iris places a hand on her arm.

She nods. "I suppose this is Nocturnal's will." She meets eyes with them both. "Be careful. If you aren't at the entrance in an hour or two, I'm coming back in to look for you, alright?"

The two lovers nod.

"Shadow hide you."

Iris watches as Karliah starts back to where they came. "We can't let her down, Bryn."

"We won't." He gestures to the stairs leading downward and follows Iris down them. "This is it. We do this for Gallus and for the Guild." He meets eyes with her. "Ready?"

"Let's do it." And Iris pushes the golden door open.

* * *

 **Mercer is so close! What will happen when they finally face him? Hmmm...**

 **Thank you all so much for reading! Special thanks to Lydia, Guest, and Mossywind for the reviews! If you haven't yet, please favorite, follow, and review! Until next time! :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**Here we go...**

* * *

The first sound she hears upon entering the chamber is a horrible scraping sound, followed the by quiet swing of the door closing behind them. A silent gasp leaves her lips as she sees what lies in front of her. A great stone statue, bigger than anything she's ever seen. A snow elf. Her eyes find the source of the scraping and gasps again when she finds Mercer standing on the statue's nose, prying an enormous diamond from its eye.

"He hasn't seen us yet," she whispers to Bryn.

He nods, pointing to the ledge upon which they're standing. "Climb down that ledge and see if you can—"

But Mercer finally pries the gem loose and turns, facing them directly. "When will you learn that you can't get the drop on me?" he sneers.

Suddenly, the cavern rumbles, the ledge beneath Iris crumbling beneath her feet.

"Iris!" Brynjolf watches in horror as the ledge breaks into pieces, and she plummets down into the pit along with the stone fragments.

She lands hard on her already injured side, curling into a fetal position, gasping. Panting, she forces herself to her knees, clutching her side. Two boots plant themselves on the statue's book, and her eyes travel upward to meet his.

"When Brynjolf brought you before me, I could feel a sudden shift in the wind," Mercer sneers. "And at that moment, I knew it would end with one of us at the end of a blade."

She struggles to her feet, clutching her sword with white knuckles. "Give me the fucking Key, Mercer."

But the former Guildmaster just chuckles. "What's Karliah been filling your head with? Tales of thieves with honor? Oaths rift with falsehoods and broken promises? Nocturnal doesn't care about you, the Key, or anything having to do with the Guild," he spits.

Iris straightens up, her back erect, flames ready to burst from her hand. "This isn't about Nocturnal. This is personal."

He laughs. "Revenge? You've been around the Guild long enough to find that doesn't ever work out." He shifts, moving his sword to his other hand. "My actions and your actions have always been one in the same. Both of us lie, cheat, and steal to further our own end."

She shakes her head vigorously. "The difference is I still have honor."

He huffs. "It's clear you'll never see the Skeleton Key as I do. As an instrument of limitless wealth. Instead, you've chosen to fall over your own foolish code." His grey eyes flit to Brynjolf, who managed to climb down the ledge to join Iris in the pit. "And your own mentor."

"If anyone falls, Mercer, it will be you," she spits.

But he only smirks. "I don't think so." He turns to Brynjolf. "I'm disappointed in you, Brynjolf. I thought you of all people would understand my actions. But it seems you've taken a fall of you own, as well. Falling for your own protege?" He laughs cruelly. "It was worth coming back to the Guild one more time to tell you she was dead. Of course, I knew if she hadn't died from my initial strike, the poison would have gotten her soon enough."

"I'm still here. The poison is out of my system." Iris readies her sword, tasting the violence moments away.

"Not for long," Mercer sneers.

"Do your worst."

"Then, the die is cast, and once again my blade will taste Nightingale blood!" Mercer raises his sword, but hesitates, looking to Brynjolf. "Or maybe…Brynjolf's will."

Before either of them can react, a burst of red magic shoots from Mercer's hand, striking Brynjolf in the chest.

"No!" she yells, running to his doubled over figure.

He straightens up, and a flash of relief bursts through her heart.

But then he reaches for his daggers.

She barely has time to jump backward when he swings at her. Her eyes widen in horror as Mercer laughs from his seat on the statue's book.

"I don't know what's happening!" Brynjolf's face contorts in fear as his daggers continue to slash out at her.

"Bryn, you have to fight it! He's controlling you!" She ducks, his blade slicing the air where her head once was. Hating herself, she raises her sword, using it to parry his blows.

"I'm trying!"

Mercer laughs lowly. "This is a much better way to watch you go. Killed by your own lover."

Iris cries out as Brynjolf slices his blades across her arm, spilling blood onto the ancient stones. She gasps, clutching her arm while dodging his endless strikes.

"I'm so sorry, Iris. I can't—I can't stop it." His green eyes fill with tears, unable to do anything but watch as he attacks the woman he is certain he loves.

She brings her sword up, catching his daggers just in time. "You have to try harder," she urges him, her voice rough. "I can't keep this up. You're too strong, and I—I don't want to hurt you."

She cries out again when his blade catches the side of her face, a long slash appearing on her cheek.

"Iris—Iris, you have to. I can't—" The tears in his eyes spill over, as her back finally meets the wall, no where to go.

"Ah, I love watching true love crumble to bits before my eyes."

"You bastard! Stop this!" Iris screams at Mercer, her eyes widening in terror as Bryn corners her into a wall. She brings her sword up, protecting her neck against his blades, straining with all her might against the pressure on her sword. She can't keep this up. She can't do it. It's over. And even though she's terrified and quite possibly about to die, she meets Bryn's eyes evenly, nodding softly. "Bryn. It's okay."

"Iris, no—"

"Promise me you won't blame yourself."

"Iris, please—"

"Bryn—"

He shakes his head frantically. "You can't, Iris. I can't lose you again, not by my own hands. And the prophecy—"

And suddenly, the end doesn't seem so near. Her eyes widen, her jaw drops. By the Nine, she's stupid. She nearly forgot. She's the Dragonborn.

"Gods, I hope this works," she mutters before delving into her Dragon soul. " _Kaan drem ov_!"

Brynjolf stumbles backward as Kyne's green glow surrounds him, breaking Mercer's spell. He sinks to his knees, and Iris moves to rush to his side. But she only takes three steps before she's stopped.

"I don't think so!" Mercer's arm somehow finds its way around her throat, jerking her away from him, his blasted Dwarven sword poised and ready, aiming at her heart.

"No!" Brynjolf stumbles, trying to recover from Iris's Shout.

"You spoiled my fun, you stupid bitch," Mercer growls in her ear.

"Get off me!"

"I always knew there was something off about you."

"Mercer!" Bryn finally recovers, standing in front of the two, his daggers ready.

"Here's how it's going to go now. Unless you stand aside and surrender your weapons, I'm going to slip my blade into her heart. And this time she won't survive," Mercer spits.

Iris opens her mouth to protest, but the ex-Guildmaster's arm tightens around her throat, cutting off her air supply. Her hands scratch at his arm, straining to escape his grasp.

"Let her go, Mercer!"

But Mercer traces the tip of his sword from her heart to her abdomen. "I've always wanted to watch the poison do its work. I hear it kills quite slowly." He loosens his grip around her neck, seemingly unsatisfied that she can't quip back.

"You can't kill me," Iris's raspy voice informs him. "Unless you want to spend eternity as Alduin's slave."

"Oh?" The tip of his sword returns to its place poised at her heart. "And why's that?"

"Because…" She knows how to get out of this. After all… "I'm the fucking Dragonborn. _Feim_!" she Shouts, becoming ethereal and easily escaping Mercer's grasp. He starts toward her, but she Shouts again, " _Fus ro dah_!" Before his back can collide with the statue, she delves once more into her depleting energy and Shouts, " _Iiz slen nus!_ " Mercer's body freezes into a block of ice, only his head free.

"What is this?"

Iris is satisfied to finally see fear in his eyes.

"How does it feel?" she taunts him, smirking evilly. "To know you're going to die but you can't do anything about it?"

Mercer struggles to no avail. "This is ridiculous—"

She approaches him, her features twisted in anger. "Now you can feel how I felt. You can only watch as I come forward to stab you with your own damned sword. Except you won't survive." She melts the ice enough for her to pry the Dwarven sword from his hand.

"Yours will come soon enough, _Iris_ ," he spits her name. "Do you honestly think the Guild will be okay with you keeping the secret of the Nightingales from them? Do you think they'll be okay when they find out you've been fucking Brynjolf on the side?" Mercer laughs. "You won't last long. You'll join me soon enough."

Iris pauses, considering his words. "Well, then…" Her eyes flit back up to his, hers burning with vengeance. "I'll see you in Oblivion." With a scream tearing her throat and shaking the ground, she swings the sword with all her might. The blade connects with the former Guildmaster's throat, smoothly slicing through the flesh. The head tumbles onto the ground, splashing in the standing water as the ice holding his body melts. Iris falls to her knees as the body drops to the ground, the sword falling from her fingers with a clatter as she pants heavily, blinking back tears.

"Iris—"

She rummages in Mercer's pockets, finding the Skeleton Key and dropping it in her pocket. "Here." She hands one of the Eyes to Bryn before standing.

"Iris—"

She looks up to the crumbling cavern ceiling. "We need to get out of here."

He moves toward her, gently trying to wipe the steady trickle of blood from her cut cheek. "Are you alright?"

She knocks his hand away. "I'm fine. We—" But her words are interrupted as a chunk of the ceiling plummets to the ground, the entire cavern rumbling.

"Damn, this place is coming down!" Bryn shouts.

Iris watches in horror as the pipes burst, sending torrents of water streaming into the cavern. She dashes after Brynjolf to the door, her hands twitching as he presses his hands against the door.

"Something must have fallen on the other side of the door!" he tells her. "It isn't moving!"

"What?!" She shoves him aside, delving into the last of her Dragon power. " _Mul!_ " she Shouts. Her body glows as she takes on the strength Word of the Dragon Aspect Thu'um, pushing her shoulder against the door. But it still doesn't budge. She tries ramming her shoulder into it, over and over and over and over—until Brynjolf's hands find her waist, pulling her away.

"It's no use, love."

Iris's wild eyes dart around the cavern, steadily filling with water. "There has to be another way out." Ignoring his call, she jumps off the ledge into the deepening water and swims to the statue, feeling the walls.

Another roaring rings throughout the ruin, causing more pipes to burst, filling the cavern with water more quickly than before.

She curses loudly, her small figure beginning to tremble in fear. "I can't find—I can't find another way—" She turns around, tears on her cheeks, as Brynjolf joins her on the statue's shoulder.

"I don't…I don't think there is another way," he tells her, cupping her cheek.

She shakes her head. "There has to be. We can't be trapped here—we can't die here—"

"We may not have a choice, Iris." His eyes are soft as they gaze into hers.

Her lip trembles, fully comprehending his words. "But—" Her breathing quickens as she clings to Bryn's hand on her face. "Gods, Bryn." She meets his eyes fully, both pairs flooded with despair and fear. "We're really going to die, aren't we?"

His thumb wipes a tear from her bloody cheek. "It looks like it, lass."

She lets out a shuddering sob, nodding frantically. "Okay. Okay."

He draws her into his arms; she buries her face in his shoulder, crying softly.

"At least—" His voice is thick with tears. "At least, we'll die together."

She nods against him, pulling back. "Yes. Yes, we will." She gently touches his face. "I might as well say it now, then, right?"

"What are you—"

She places a finger on his lips. "I love you." Her face cracks into a sad smile, making a sound between a laugh and a sob. "There. I said it. I don't want you to die without knowing."

"Iris—" He takes a deep breath, his voice trembling. "I love you, too, lass."

The water creeps up to his waist as he takes her face in his hands, their lips meeting for one last time. He's never seen this side of Iris, utterly terrified, aching with desperation, hungrily crushing her lips against his. Her hand grabs the sides of his face, pulling him closer. He can taste her tears as they strain to make their last moments together mean something. His hands tangle in her hair as the water continues to rise.

They are forced to part when the water reaches Iris's chest.

Gasping, she points up. "Up there."

The two climb on top of the statue's head, only a few feet from the ceiling. They cower together, holding each other.

"Gods, I'm so scared," Bryn whispers, his arms wrapped around his Iris.

"Don't be," her shaky voice tells him, squeezing his hand. "I'm here with you."

The water rises to her shoulders, the blood from her arm staining the water with a crimson shadow.

"Just don't fight it," she says, her voice rising in pitch with hysteria. "It'll make it worse."

He nods frantically, holding her.

She looks up at him, her violet eyes shining as the water takes their feet out from under them, their hands pressed against the cavern ceiling, only a foot left of oxygen.

"I love you," she sobs.

"And I love you," he weeps back.

And the water steals the thieves' oxygen, reaching up to the ceiling, the two lovers clinging onto one another as they sink beneath the murky waters.

Iris never takes her eyes off her true love, not even when she runs out of breath, bubbles spewing from her mouth as her lungs force out the used air. His hand finds her cheek as her mouth opens to take in a lungful of death. The face she grew to love grows blurry before her eyes as she finally inhales, her lungs burning as water floods them. She chokes, her body convulsing in desperation, her organs flooding with water. Bubbles churn the murky water as she catches one last glimpse of his face…before closing her eyes and finally, after all her brushes with it, giving into Death.

 _The End_

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 **BAHAHAHA just kidding. I couldn't help myself! Whatever will happen next? ;)**

 **As always, please favorite, follow, and review!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry for messing with you guys last week! I just couldn't help myself! But don't worry; Iris's story is far from over!**

 **Special thanks to Ktonicle, Inquisitek, Guest, and Manu for the reviews!**

* * *

"Iris."

Murky green permeates violet eyes hidden behind blue-tinged eyelids.

"Iris."

Frigid ice chokes a flooded throat, water spewing past blue trembling lips, two hands pumping against a slowing heart.

"Come on, my love. Please."

A rough voice riddled with tears beckons to her, pleading for her return from the grasp of the turbid, green water.

"That's it. Come on."

And suddenly, Iris's world floods back to her. With a tremendous gasp, her violet eyes burst open once more, water spewing past her lips as she coughs.

"Iris, oh Gods, thank you." Brynjolf's face slowly comes into focus, peering down at her from where she lay on a rocky ground.

She opens her mouth to speak, but her small frame wracks with coughs, coughing up more water.

"Easy, love." His hand moves to her back, slightly sitting her up. "Are you alright?"

"What happened?" Her voice doesn't work, sounding more like a hiss than her usual lilting voice. She gasps in pain at the act of speaking, her hand flying to her throat.

"After you…lost consciousness, the ceiling collapsed again. I looked up and found a hole in the ceiling. I grabbed you and swam up to it and found it lead to a cave. I tossed you up into it before pulling myself up. I carried you here and—well, you weren't breathing. I thought you—I tried to resuscitate you, tried for what felt like forever. Gods, nothing happened at first. You were completely unresponsive, and your skin was so—so cold. But I kept going anyway and—" He gestures to her abdomen. "I think I broke one of your ribs by accident, but—it's like Nocturnal wanted us to survive. She opened the ceiling for us and brought you back to me."

"Don't cry," she rasps almost inaudibly, trying to hoist her heavy arm to touch his war-torn face.

"I just can't believe we're alive," he cries quietly. "I watched you drown, Iris. You ran out of air before me, and I had to watch you drown, and I couldn't do anything about it, and—"

"Shh." She cries softly with the pain, but it doesn't stop her from wrapping her arms around his neck.

He holds her violently shivering body in disbelief at everything that has happened in the past few hours.

"Where's Karliah?" He almost doesn't hear her rasping whisper. Pulling away, he touches the base of her throat.

"You should save your voice, love." He wishes he could just take her pain away.

She nods in agreement, her eyelids drooping.

"Are you okay to keep moving? We can meet Karliah at the entrance."

She nods again, wincing as he helps her to her feet. Her legs buckle at first, all her wounds taking a toll on her frail body. She notices blood caked on the side of his head and points to it.

"When the ceiling collapsed again, I wasn't the most agile," he explains, wrapping his arm around her waist and slowly but surely helping her move along the tunnel. "After we speak to Karliah, we're going to the nearest hold to get you to a healer." His eyes find the two gashes he caused, the bleeding stopped but not scabbing just yet.

She shivers uncontrollably, her wet hair plastered to her cheeks as he helps her down the tunnel.

He pokes his head out of the cave, shivering himself when he feels the frigid, subzero air and snow flurries blustering in the unforgiving winds.

"On second thought, we should probably wait here until we dry off," he tells her.

She nods as he helps her to the ground. They sit with their backs leaned against the cave wall, huddled together to keep warm.

"What about Karliah?" Iris forces her voice to ask.

"Shh, I'm sure she'll still be waiting."

Iris shakes her head, holding up one finger. "Hour," her voice rasps.

"Oh, she did say she'd wait for an hour. Then she'd come and find us, right?" He frowns as Iris nods. "I can run out there and get her—"

But Iris shakes her head vehemently, pointing at her throat.

His eyebrows furrow, trying to decipher what she wants to say.

She sighs softly, uttering two words, "Throw Voice."

"No. There's no way you can Shout, Iris. It could damage your voice even more, maybe even permanently."

She opens her mouth to protest, but he shakes his head. "No, love. I'll go get Karliah. Wait here."

She brings her knees up to her chest, watching silently as he steps out of the cave. Her mind whirls at everything that's just happened. She should be dead right now. She was dead. But, yet again, she cheated Death. Bryn was right. Nocturnal must not be done with them yet.

She closes her eyes, resting her forehead against her knees and shivering. Her throat burns, feeling raw. How long will it take for her voice to return? She hopes it's soon. She has a lot left to do with the whole Dragonborn business.

After what seems like ages, Bryn finally returns with Karliah in tow. The Dunmer looks a lot better; she must have taken some health potions.

"Iris, are you alright? Brynjolf told me what happened." Karliah crouches at the Breton's side.

Iris nods wearily.

"I'm glad Mercer's dead, but I'm sorry what you had to go through. I wish I'd have been able to help."

Iris shakes her head. "You'd be dead," she rasps.

Karliah frowns at the sound of Iris's voice. "I suppose you're right. Here." She hands Iris her fur cloak. "Found this outside. You look like you could use it right now."

Sure enough, when Iris glances down at her arm, she finds her skin a bluish tone. She nods her thanks, wrapping herself in the cloak.

"We should probably get going," Bryn says. "We need to get Iris to a healer immediately."

Iris opens her mouth to tell them that she's fine, but Bryn shushes her, gripping her arm and helping her up.

* * *

Hours later, the three Nightingales stumble into Falkreath. Iris clutches her side as she's practically pulled along, her legs no longer supporting her, but she had adamantly refused for Bryn to carry her. He only agreed because she threatened to Shout if he tried to carry her.

"We're going to take you to Zaria, the alchemist," Bryn tells her.

She nods silently, her eyelids drooping and her hands still clutching her side.

They enter the shop, Grave Concoctions, and describe what happened to Zaria, leaving out the Nightingale business, of course. Zaria takes Iris to a back room to administer some potions to help regrow her broken ribs and speed along the healing process for her throat. Meanwhile, Karliah and Bryn wander the town in search of dinner and more arrows.

Two hours later, Karliah and Brynjolf return to the alchemist, their arms filled with breads and cheeses, and their quivers full of ebony arrows.

"How is she?" Bryn asks when he spots Zaria.

"She's resting. I fixed her ribs and put some salve on the cuts on her arm and face. I need to harvest a few more ingredients before I can start on a tonic to help her voice."

"Thank you, Zaria," Karliah says gratefully.

"It's the least I can do for you, Karliah." Zaria smiles. She slips her arms into her traveling cloak before grabbing a basket. "I'll be back as soon as I find the ingredients I need."

"Do you need any help?" Bryn offers.

"You're kind to offer," Zaria smiles, "but I prefer to find them myself. They like to speak to me. That way I know which are the best." With that, she takes her leave.

"I'm going to check on her," Bryn tells Karliah.

"Brynjolf, wait." Karliah places a hand on his arm. "I meant to talk to you about this sooner, but there wasn't time."

"Talk about what?"

"You and Iris…you need to be careful. Relationships within the Guild—"

"Vex and Delvin already spoke to us, threatened to kick us out of the Guild and everything."

Karliah shakes her head. "Listen to me. My falling in love with Gallus was the cause of his death. He let his guard down. In a roundabout way, I killed him. Merely by loving him. You can't afford that to happen with Iris. Believe me when I say it tears you apart, that sort of guilt. I loved Gallus with all my heart, but I'd rather he still be here, without us acting on our love, than dead because we did."

"Karliah—"

"I want you to know the risk you're taking. I want you to be aware of what could happen. Keep it in mind. It may seem worth it now, but if Iris ends up like Gallus…it is not worth it." Karliah sighs, glancing at the door. "I need to get back to the Temple. Come stop by once Iris is well. But keep my words in mind." She dons her Nightingale hood. "Oh, and, give this to Iris when she awakens. She's going to need it when she returns the Key to the Sepulcher."

"Safe travels, Karliah," Brynjolf tells her, accepting the Nightingale bow.

"Shadow hide you." Karliah disappears into the night.

Sighing, Brynjolf rubs his eyes, processing her words. He knows she's right but…how can he live without acting on his feelings? He denied them once, thought Iris was dead, and regretted it. Now, she's alive; how can he keep himself from acting on it? He knows Karliah is right. He knows Vex and Delvin are right. He just hates having to essentially choose the Guild over her. He can only hope she understands.

He moves into Iris's room, finding her fast asleep, buried under a mountain of blankets. Smiling softly, he moves a chair by her bedside and sits, lightly touching her hand and lowering the bow onto the floor. His eyes never leaving her face, he settles in for the night.

It takes two days for Iris's voice to begin to come back. Her words are still whispered, and she still can't Shout, but it's less painful for her to speak now. Zaria gives them a bottle of tonic for the road, and the two Nightingales set out, heading back to the Guild to deliver the news. The walk back is quiet; though Iris can't fully speak, they don't need words between them to understand their feelings. Brynjolf glances sideways at her, watching her slowing steps, her drooping eyelids. He knows she's exhausted; he is, too. All he wants after this is to sleep for a very long time. Preferably, in Honeyside. Though, he knows that probably can't happen, what with the 'ban' on them seeing each other outside of the Guild and everything.

Iris and Brynjolf let out simultaneous sighs of relief when they spot Riften's gates.

"Thank the Gods," he mutters as they walk through the gates and toward the cemetery.

"Here we go," Iris whispers, pressing the button on the coffin.

He exchanges a nervous smile with her before they descend into the Cistern.

* * *

"Where in Oblivion were you two? Do I need to remind you of the consequences of—"

"Mercer is dead, Vex," Brynjolf talks over her wearily.

"What?" Vex looks between the two of them.

"We tracked him to a Dwarven ruin. He tried to kill both of us, but Iris managed to kill him first."

Vex's hard glare turns on Iris. "So, he's dead?"

"Yeah," Iris whispers.

Confusion suffuses Vex's face at hearing Iris's damaged voice.

"We nearly drowned," Brynjolf tells her softly.

Vex nods curtly. "Right. Well, we need to tell the rest of the Guild immediately."

Vex gathers everyone, and Brynjolf tells them what transpired.

"So, he's really dead? It's over?" Rune asks in awe.

Iris nods seriously. A silent laugh leaves her lips when the rest of her family erupts into cheers. She grins, making eye contact with Bryn as he smiles back. But then Vex butts in.

"We need to talk. Now."

"Why—"

"Now. Come on." Vex interrupts Brynjolf, and she and Delvin lead the two Nightingales into the Flagon.

"Care to explain yourselves?" Vex sneers at them once they're situated.

"There's nothing to explain," Brynjolf says tiredly.

"I distinctly remember telling you both that you couldn't see each other outside of the Guild—"

"It was Guild business. We tracked down Mercer," Iris whispers.

"—or else we'd have to kick you out of the Guild," Vex continues to talk over Iris's soft voice.

"Come on, Vex. This is ridiculous. Like Iris said, we were on Guild business. We tracked Mercer to a Dwarven ruin and killed him."

Vex crosses her arms. "You were gone for days. Certainly, it couldn't have taken that long—"

"We almost drowned, and Iris was severely hurt. We had to stay in Falkreath for a couple days to recover."

"Vex, it's clear that it was Guild business," Delvin says softly to the blonde. "Besides, they did us a great service by getting rid of that bastard."

Vex chews on her lip, glaring at Iris. "Fine. I'll let it go this time."

Brynjolf nods, getting to his feet. "Anything else?"

"A thank you would be nice." Iris's quiet voice doesn't go unnoticed.

Brynjolf turns, finding her in a staring match with Vex, who sighs.

"You're right. I'm sorry." She shakes her head. "Thank you. Now, go get some rest. You look like you could use it."

* * *

 **Thanks so much for reading! As always, please favorite, follow, and review! :)**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hi, everyone! Special thanks to Ktonicle and Mia78 for the reviews! Enjoy Chapter 17!**

* * *

 _Two Weeks Later_

"I don't know how much longer I can take this, Bryn," Iris whines, sinking to the floor of the training room.

"We can't risk it, and you know it, love," Bryn replies, retrieving arrows from the target.

"You'd think they'd be ecstatic about what we did, killing Mercer and all, but no. They've almost gotten worse about it! Now that there's nothing else going on in the Guild, they're focusing solely on us." Iris growls in frustration. "And now, Vex keeps giving me shitty jobs halfway across Skyrim. Why does she care so much about separating us, anyway?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, lass." He sighs, closing one eye and aiming at the target. "At least, you have things to do. I'm forced to stay down here all day and help Delvin manage the books."

"They're keeping us apart on purpose. They're trying to tear us apart."

Bryn lets the arrow fly, setting the bow down once his target is hit. He strides over to her, sitting by her side. "I know. But it won't work." He takes her hand in his.

She shrugs defeatedly. "They're sending me on a job in Windhelm. Who knows how long I'll be gone?" She sighs, leaning her head on his shoulder.

He strokes her hair, lightly kissing her forehead. "Just give it time. Maybe they'll come around."

"It's been almost two weeks since we killed Mercer. You'd think they'd be over us by now."

"Patience, love."

"I don't know how you do it."

"At least, you have jobs to busy yourself with."

She looks up at him with her beautiful violet eyes. "I'd rather busy myself with you." She smirks flirtatiously.

Chuckling, he takes her face in his hands. "Me, too, love. Me, too." Making sure no prying eyes are watching, he quickly kisses her lips before leaning back against the wall. "Karliah wanted to know when you're going to the Sepulcher to return the Key," he remembers.

"I'll stop there on the way back from the heist." She sighs. "I probably should've returned it as soon as I could, huh?"

"There's no point in us thieving if Nocturnal's angry with us."

"I'll do it on the way to the heist then." She stands. "I should probably go now. I wish you could come with me."

"I know. But Karliah said—"

"Karliah said I have to do it alone, yeah, yeah."

He chuckles as she rolls her eyes.

"I'll be back as soon as I can." She forces herself to back away from him, though she craves the feeling of his lips on hers. She grudgingly lets go of his hand and edges toward the ladder.

"Be careful in the Sepulcher, lass."

"I will." She shoves a smile onto her face. "See you soon." With a fleeting glance, she turns and climbs up the ladder before she can give into her heart and crush her lips against his.

* * *

Groaning in exhaustion, Iris trudges through the deep snow up to the city gates. She decided to go and return the Key on the way back, a little pitstop before returning to the Guild. And this job is just a simple heist, she reminds herself. It'll be easy. In and out. But she needs to warm up first. She ducks into the inn, ordering a warm meal and a bottle of mead as she strains to thaw out.

She settles into a chair, savoring the warmth by the fire, her fingers tingling as feeling returns to them. She practically inhales her food and quickly downs the mead; she didn't realize how hungry she was.

"And, now, I'd like to share a traditional Nord song with you all," the bard announces.

Iris groans inwardly when he begins to sing _The Dragonborn Comes_. Slapping her gold on the table, she supposes it's a sign to get started on the heist. She's out before the bard can even belt out the first note.

* * *

He doesn't like being separated from Iris. It's no secret. After almost losing her three different times, he likes to have her under his watchful gaze. He likes to know where she is and what she's doing so that if she's doing something dangerous, he can help or convince her otherwise. Who knows what she's doing right now? Brynjolf knows he's being overprotective; he doesn't need anyone to tell him, because he knows. He just doesn't care. To get his mind off things, he decides to visit the Nightingale Sanctuary, spend some time alone. He tells the others he has to run a short errand, that he's run out of ink and is going to buy some more. But he ducks out of the city as soon as he's sure he isn't being watched.

What he doesn't account for is someone already being in the Sanctuary when he arrives.

"Brynjolf," Karliah greets him.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, taken aback.

"I could ask the same of you." The Dunmer peers around him. "Where's Iris?"

"On a job in Windhelm."

Karliah crosses her arms. "Has she returned the Key?"

"She's doing it on the way."

She scoffs. "It's not some passing task. Taking the Pilgrim's Path to the Sepulcher is dangerous. Many have tried, and many have failed."

"I know. I've been bothering her about it for some time now, and she's finally going to do it."

Karliah nods curtly. "Good. It needs to be done. Otherwise, the Guild will die out, and Nocturnal will be eternally angry with us."

Brynjolf crosses the chamber and settles onto a bench as Karliah joins him.

"Have you thought about what I told you in Falkreath? About you and Iris?" she prods.

He sighs, nodding. "Aye. We haven't done anything, but we haven't completely stopped. We're banned from seeing each other outside the Guild, and Vex keeps sending her on jobs far from here."

"Perhaps it's for the best, Brynjolf. Believe me when I say you do not want to feel the pain of being the cause of your true love's death."

He turns his head, meeting her eyes. "You weren't the cause. It was Mercer."

She shrugs. "All the same. If we hadn't fallen in love, Gallus would've noticed Mercer's actions were anything but friendly."

"But you didn't notice either."

"He wasn't the only one blinded by love."

"You're too hard on yourself."

She shakes her head. "If you were in my position, you'd blame yourself, too. Don't even try to deny it."

He stops, his lips parting. She's right. If Mercer had succeeded in killing Iris, he'd blame himself for getting her into the whole mess. Hell, when he thought she was dead, he did blame himself. He was the one who recruited her, so in a roundabout way, he killed her.

"See?" Karliah says.

"Aye, you're right. I guess I just don't want to have that conversation with her."

"Well, she won't, so it's up to you."

"I'm not sure that I'll be able to. You forget, I'm in love with her, too."

"I never said it'd be easy. But Gods know it's better than the alternative."

He nods slowly, anguish stirring his stomach. "I'll talk with her when she gets back from Windhelm." He can't guarantee he'll follow through with his words; he quite likes being selfish and letting himself love her.

* * *

Gasping at the blood coating her trembling hands, Iris springs to her feet, barely making it out the window before the children enter the room. She dashes straight to Honeyside, wheezing the whole way. What has she done? She can barely lock the door behind her once she falls into the house; her bloodied hands are shaking too hard. She leans against the door, her mouth open, her first cold-blooded murder replaying in her mind's eye. Her chest heaving, she brings her hands up to her eyes, studying the crimson streaks adorning her tanned skin. She has to get this blood off. She stumbles into her bookshelf as she runs down the stairs to her alchemy station, dumping water on her hands. But it doesn't work. She needs more. She whirls around, knocking potions off the shelves as she runs back upstairs and out onto her balcony. Sputtering and holding back tears, she scrubs her hands in the freezing lake water, watching the cloudy red mar the clear water. Finally, it's gone, leaving her hands pink and raw from her violent scrubbing. She collapses onto her knees, trying to catch her breath as she finally pulls her hood down, blinking against the sunlight. She stays like that for a moment, collecting herself, shoving all the pieces back. Once she's sure she's put back together, she stands up and strides straight to the stable.

She has to get back to Windhelm to deliver the news.

* * *

"Is she back yet?" Brynjolf asks Sapphire, his voice low.

"She hasn't come back here yet, but I heard that Dirge saw her leaving Riften yesterday afternoon," Sapphire tells him, lazily turning the page of _Thief_.

"She was here yesterday and didn't come to the Flagon?" he clarifies, his brow furrowing.

"According to Dirge."

Brynjolf gets to his feet, heading straight to Dirge himself. "You saw Iris leaving Riften yesterday?"

"Nice to see you, too," Dirge replies sarcastically. "But yeah. I'm pretty sure it was her."

Brynjolf frowns. Why would she stop by Riften only to leave the same day? "Did she look okay? Was anything wrong?"

"Listen, Brynjolf, all I saw was a brown-haired Breton ride away on a horse. That's it."

"Okay. Thanks." Brynjolf wanders back to the table, taking a long draught of mead. He hopes everything's okay with her.

* * *

 **Hmm...I wonder what she's been up to...**

 **Thanks for reading, and don't forget to favorite, follow, and review!**


	18. Chapter 18

**So sorry for the late post! My day was crazy busy, and I couldn't seem to find the time to sit down and post this! But here it is! I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

"Iris!" Brynjolf face cracks into a relieved smile when he spots the Breton in the Cistern. But as soon as she turns, he barely smothers his gasp. "Lass, it looks like you haven't slept for days. Is everything okay?"

She waves him away wearily. "I'm fine. I need to talk to Vex. Tell her the heist is done."

He frowns after her in concern, his mind spinning with all the possible causes of her darkened eyes and paled skin.

When Iris returns from speaking with Vex, she looks a little better. Brynjolf wonders if he imagined her weary appearance when he first saw her.

"How was it?" he asks when she sits down next to him.

"Easy. Just a long ride to Windhelm." He notices her voice is lower in pitch, tired.

"Uh, I heard that you stopped back here for a bit?"

Her eyes snap up to his. "Yeah, I…forgot something."

He arches an eyebrow. "You forget who you're talking to, love. That was an extraordinarily bad lie."

She almost smirks, but stops. "How have things been around here?"

"The same as usual. Boring and uneventful." Karliah's words ring in his ears, but he can't tell Iris now. "Did you return the Key?"

She curses under her breath. "No. Gods damn it, I knew I forgot something."

"How could you forget to return the Key?" he asks suspiciously.

"I…had a lot on my mind, I guess." She sighs, rubbing her eyes. "Want to go outside?"

"You know we can't, love."

"Just the cemetery. Maybe we ran into each other as I was leaving the Cistern." She smirks.

He sighs softly, a smile tugging at his mouth. "Gods know I can't say no to you."

The two lovers get to their feet and climb the ladder. Once outside, Iris leans against the outside of the tomb, eyes upturned to the sky.

"Septim for your thoughts," Brynjolf says softly from his place inside the structure.

She exhales, turning to meet his eyes. "Have you ever done something where it seemed like nothing at the time but turned into something huge? Something you regret?"

His brow furrows in thought. "I'm sure everyone has." He peers at her weary expression. "Why? What have you done?"

She drops her gaze, picking at a stray thread on her armor. "I—"

"I've been looking all over for you." Iris almost jumps out of her skin when the courier approaches her. "Got something to deliver. Your hands only. Let's see here…" The courier rummages around in his bag, pulling out a folded piece of parchment. "Yeah, got this note."

"From who?" Iris eyes the note with apprehension.

"Don't know. Creepy fella, black robe. Couldn't see his face. Paid me a pretty sum to get that into your hands, though." He hands the note to her. "Looks like that's it. Got to go."

Brynjolf watches her shaking hands fiddle with the note.

"What does it say?" he asks.

She shrugs, unfolding the note. As soon as her violet eyes read it, her face pales, slackens in horror, her trembling hands almost dropping the note.

Brynjolf straightens up. "What's wrong?"

She shakes her head frantically. "Nothing, I—" She stuffs the note into her pocket, her eyes wildly darting around. "I'll see you later, Bryn."

"Wait, Iris!"

But she soon disappears from his view, practically running through the streets.

What in Oblivion would make her react like that? he wonders, worry suffusing his heart. He intends to find out.

* * *

How do they know? How could they find out? It was a simple murder. She just did what the Aretino boy asked her to. Kill Grelod the Kind. That was it. And she did so with ease. A little too much ease. The guilt that wracked her body after came as a shock. She's killed before. It isn't as if that was her first kill. But the boy thought she was in the Dark Brotherhood. Why the hell would she pretend to be a Dark Brotherhood assassin? _You wanted to help him_ , a small voice tells her. _You felt sorry for what he'd lost and wanted to please him_. Iris was so strung out about killing Grelod, that she completely forgot to return the Key. And now? The Dark Brotherhood knows what she did. What will happen to her now?

Swiping the frightened tears from her face, she crumples the note and launches it into the fire with a cry. She watches as the edges curl and burn before her eyes. She can't tell anyone about this. Especially not Bryn. She can't get him involved in all this. Whatever this is. Iris paces back and forth through Honeyside, fear rattling her to the core. She's never felt like this before. She grabs two bottles of wine, cracking one open and drinking straight from the bottle. She goes to her bag, intending to fish out her journal, but stops. She can't write about this. She needs to keep this a secret. No evidence anywhere. If the Guild found out that the Dark Brotherhood might be after her…no. She doesn't want anyone to get involved. Once the Dark Brotherhood decides to kill someone, there's no stopping them. This is her problem now. No one else's.

* * *

Brynjolf has to force himself to stay in the Flagon. He keeps getting up, intending to go to Honeyside to make sure Iris is alright. But he can't. And he collapses back into his seat in frustration every time.

"You look a little worse for wear," Delvin comments as he enters the Flagon and takes the seat across from Brynjolf. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," he growls. "I think something's wrong with Iris."

Delvin furrows his eyebrows. "Why? What's happened?"

"I don't know. She came back from the Windhelm job looking awful. She's more jumpy than usual. A courier delivered a note to her, and I thought she was going to collapse. She dashed off to who knows where right after. Wouldn't tell me what it said."

"Do you think she's being blackmailed?"

Brynjolf shakes his head. "I don't think so. I know nearly everything about her, and there's nothing that could be blackmail material. Although…"

"Although?"

"Right before the courier came, she asked me if I'd ever done something I regret. I asked her what she did, but the courier came and interrupted us." He sighs. "I'm really worried."

"I'll ask around. See if any rumors are floating around about her," Delvin says. "I'm sure she's alright, Bryn. She's a strong woman."

"But even she can break. You don't know her like I do." He shudders, remembering finding her after he brought up her father.

Delvin places a hand on his arm. "It'll be alright. I'll let you know if I hear anything."

"Thanks, Delvin." Brynjolf nods, standing up. "I'm going to see if Vex has anything for me. I need to get my mind off her."

"Women, right?" Delvin smirks.

Brynjolf stops, turning. "I thought you were against Iris and I being…together?"

Delvin shrugs. "I don't think it's wise, but some things you can't stop. I've tried convincing Vex, but she won't budge on the subject. I'll keep working on it though. But really, Bryn, love in the Guild can be dangerous. And I'm not sure if you two can handle more danger than you already have. It might be better this way."

Brynjolf scoffs, turning back around. "Better for the Guild, you mean."

"You know the rules. The Guild has to come first."

"But if my love interest happens to be the soon-to-be Guildmaster?"

Delvin sighs. "Even more reason to stay away. Vex is…irrational sometimes. She knows that if we lost you and Iris, the Guild would suffer. I have a hard time believing she'd follow through with kicking you two out of the Guild. But still. You can never be too careful, can you?"

"I suppose." Brynjolf moves to the door. "I'll see you later."

* * *

She has to get out of the city. News has traveled about Grelod's murder; Iris overheard two guards talking about it. How long will it take for the Dark Brotherhood to find her now? She doesn't think anyone saw her killing the old woman, but maybe she was wrong. Maybe the Brotherhood is already on the way. She takes another long draught of wine, discarding the empty bottle on her end table. She'll leave first thing in the morning. She's done a good job of outrunning Boethiah so far. If she can run from a Daedric god, surely she can outrun the Brotherhood.

Iris stumbles to her bed, the wine clouding her mind, and blows out the candle by her bedside. She crawls underneath the warm blankets, clutching the dagger she always keeps under her pillow. She knows sleep is going to be difficult to find.

But the wine certainly helps. She lies in bed for a long while when her eyelids finally begin to droop. Every muscle in her body relaxes as she falls into the state of consciousness right between sleeping and awake. Forcing her mind to empty, she allows herself to fall into a much needed sleep.

Iris awakens with a violent gasp, shooting up in bed, clutching the dagger. Her eyes widen in the pitch darkness as she climbs out of bed. She hears the whisper of light footsteps, the hiss of movement.

"W–Who's there?" she calls out in a shaky voice, brandishing the dagger.

She silently tiptoes forward, entering the small kitchen, her eyes darting around.

"Bryn?" She swears, if this is him—

Another whispered movement sounds behind her. She whirls around, her breaths shallow. Blinking quickly, she sighs in relief when her eyes finally adjust to the darkness. But she only finds her bedroom empty, the candle beside her bed still smoking. How long was she asleep?

Iris gasps, startled, and whirls around again. "What do you want?"

She creeps forward, holding her breath. The dagger stretches straight out in front of her, held by her trembling hand.

"What do you want?" she demands again. Her eyes widen when she feels movement directly behind her, lips touching her ear, muttering a single word.

"You."

Before Iris can lash out, the intruder wraps a gloved hand around her mouth. Iris's cry of pain is muffled as the intruder twists her wrist, sending her dagger flying out of her hand. But still Iris fights. She tries to squirm out of the intruder's grasp, her arms flailing and knocking things off her shelves.

The intruder hushes her, pulling her backwards into her bedroom. Iris tries to Shout but it's no use. She kicks behind her, hoping to get the intruder in the shins. But a stabbing pain registers in her shoulder. Gasping, she finds a poison dart in her neck. Frantically, she yanks it out of her neck, tossing it onto the floor. Her muffled cries, she knows, will reach no one's ears. She still struggles against her attacker, but begins to feel the poison enter her veins. Her legs give out from under her. She falls to the ground. Her eyes droop, threatening to bury her in unconsciousness.

"No," she mutters against the intruder's hand as the shadowy figure lowers her to the ground. The edges of her vision blur, a roaring in her ears. She can't fight anymore, and she can't hold on anymore. A single tear drips from her eye as the poison finally takes her under.

* * *

 **Hmmm...any guesses on Iris's next adventure?**

 **Thanks for reading! :)**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hi, everyone! Here's Chapter 19!**

 **(Special thanks to Mia78 for the reviews!)**

* * *

Iris's head pounds. Her body aches as she pushes herself off the splintered wooden floor, her eyes blurring.

"Sleep well?"

She leaps to her feet, ignoring her pounding head. She spins around to find a lone figure lounging atop a bookshelf and watching her intensely. Iris stretches a hand out to the wall to steady herself.

"What—Where am I? Who are you?" Her voice sounds hoarse.

"Does it matter?" the woman's purring voice asks from behind her masked cowl. "You're warm, dry, and still very much alive. That's more than can be said for old Grelod, hmm?"

The blood drains from Iris's face, ice plunging into her heart. "How—How do you know about that?"

The woman laughs. "Darling, half of Skyrim knows. Old hag gets butchered in her own orphanage? Things like that tend to get around. Oh, but don't misunderstand. I'm not criticizing. It was a good kill. Old crone had it coming. And you saved a group of urchins to boot." The woman pauses, watching Iris. "Ah, but there is a slight…problem."

"A–A problem?" Iris shivers in the frigid air.

"You see, that little Aretino boy was looking for the Dark Brotherhood. For me and my associates."

The Dark Brotherhood. They found her after all. Iris strains to hide her fear, but knows the assassin can see through her weak facade.

"Grelod the Kind was, by all rights, a Dark Brotherhood contract. A kill…that you stole. A kill you must repay."

"Repay?" Iris whispers. "You want me t-to kill someone else?"

"Well, now. Funny you should ask. If you turn around, you'll notice my guests."

Iris turns and find three people with hoods over their heads and their hands bound.

The assassin continues, "I've…collected them from—well, that's not really important. The here and now. That's what matters. You see, there's a contract out on one of them. And that person can't leave this room alive. Oh, but…which one? Go on. See if you can figure it out. Make your choice. Make your kill. I just want to observe…and admire."

Iris turns back to the assassin, her face resolute. "No."

The assassin is taken aback at her blatant refusal. She arches an eyebrow. "No?"

"No. I don't want to be a part of this—this madness," Iris spits.

But the assassin laughs threateningly. "You took part in this madness when you slaughtered an old woman in her own orphanage. Perhaps you misunderstand. You don't leave this shack until someone dies."

Iris moves to the door, twisting the knob.

"You'll get the key once someone lies dead."

The Breton leans on the door. "Please."

"All you need to do is take your pick and send the poor fool to the Void. Then, I'll give you the key."

Iris exhales, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against the door. "I—I don't have a choice, do I?"

"No." The assassin chuckles. "You don't."

The Nightingale sighs. "Do you at least have a weapon for me? All mine are at my house."

The assassin drops a dagger onto the ground.

Her heart beating furiously, Iris picks up the dagger, clutching it in her ungloved hand. _Just do what she says_ , she tells herself. She walks with bare feet to the three hostages, stopping in front of what looks to be a Nord.

"Hello?" Her voice shakes as she addresses the man.

"Is this about that raid last week? I told Holgrim there was no honor in killing sleeping men, but he wouldn't listen! It wasn't my fault! I swear!" the Nord shrieks.

Iris places a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down. I just need to ask you a few questions."

"O–Okay. What do you want to know?"

Iris closes her eyes. "Would…would someone pay to have you killed?"

"What?" the Nord whimpers. "Oh, Gods, I don't want to die!"

"Shh, don't be afraid. You can trust me." Iris hates herself for playing this man.

"I don't know! I mean, I'm a soldier. I've killed people. When I was ordered to. Maybe there were some times…some times I got carried away? But war is war, right? Nobody could blame me for that, could they?"

"I–I don't know." Iris drops her hand, glancing behind her at the ever watchful assassin. She moves to the woman. "Excuse me—"

"Cowards!" the woman bursts out. "Stealing a woman from her own home? For shame!"

"Who—who are you?"

"None of your damned business who I am! If you're going to kill me, just do it already! As Mara is my witness, if I didn't have this hood on right now I'd spit right in your face!"

"I'm sorry, I just need to ask…would someone pay to have you killed?"

The woman starts. "Excuse me? What kind of question is that?"

"Please. Just tell me what I need to know," Iris pleads.

"I'm kneeling here with my hands bound and a sack over my head, and you have the gall to ask me that? What do you think, genius?"

Biting her lip, Iris straightens up, moving to the last hostage.

"Whoever this is, clearly, we got off on the wrong foot," the Khajiit says before Iris can say anything. "Ah, but no worries. This is not the first time I have been bagged and dragged."

"Who are you?"

"Ahh, Vasha, at your service. Obtainer of goods, taker of lives, and defiler of daughters. Have you not heard of me?"

"No," Iris replies softly.

Vasha huffs. "Perhaps I will have my people carve my name into your corpse as a reminder."

Gritting her teeth, Iris asks, "Would someone pay to have you killed?"

"Me?" Vasha laughs. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, I am."

"Fool! Don't you get it? I live in the shadow of death every day. A knife in every doorway, a nocked arrow on every rooftop! If one of my enemies wouldn't pay to have me killed, I'd take it as a personal insult." He shifts. "Tell you what. You release me, and I promise my associates won't hunt you down like an animal and butcher you in the street. It's a win-win."

Iris backs away, studying the three hostages. Who in Oblivion has the damn contract? It could be any of them. Iris's eyes flit to the locked door, and she feels her pockets for the Skeleton Key. Her heart plummets when she remembers it tucked away in her bag. She has no choice. She has to kill one of them if she wants to get out of this alive.

"Today would be nice," the assassin pipes up.

Iris squeezes her eyes shut, fighting back tears and wishing that Bryn was here. Her knuckles turn white against the dagger's hilt as she comes to a decision. A hard knot appears in her throat as she approaches her victim. She positions the dagger at the base of the throat, her hand shaking.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

Then, she stabs the Khajiit in the throat. She retreats as blood gushes from the wound, a horrible choking sound leaving Vasha's mouth. Iris clamps a hand over her own mouth as she watches the Khajiit bleed out before breathing his last breath. She backs away, dropping the dagger. She storms up to the assassin, tears in her eyes.

"There. I did it," she chokes out.

"Ah, the conniving Khajiit. Cat like that was sure to have enemies. It's no wonder you chose him," the assassin purrs.

"Was it him? Did he have the contract?" Iris asks almost desperately.

The assassin chuckles. "Oh, darling. Don't you get it? I told you to kill, and you obeyed."

Iris stares at the woman, her stomach churning. "No one had a contract?"

"I'm afraid not."

Iris takes a step backwards, feeling sick. But she forces herself to look into the assassin's eyes. "So, is that it? Am I free to go?"

"Of course. And you've repaid your debt, in full. Here's the key to the shack." The woman drops the key onto the ground as Iris's bare feet. "But why stop here? I say we take our relationship to the next level. Somehow, you sensed my presence in your home. You almost managed to defend yourself. In other words, you know how to handle yourself. You notice things that most people don't. So…I would like to officially extend to you an invitation to join my Family. The Dark Brotherhood."

The young Breton shakes her head. "I—I couldn't. I'm not a murderer."

"Yet you've killed two people in cold blood."

Iris opens her mouth soundlessly. She did. She's a murderer now.

The assassin continues. "In the southwest reaches of Skyrim, in the Pine Forest, you'll find the entrance to our Sanctuary. It's just beneath the road, hidden from view. When questioned by the Black Door, answer with the correct passphrase: 'Silence, my brother'. Then you're in. And your new life begins."

"But I'm not sure I—"

"I'll see you at home."

As if in a daze, Iris steps backward, edging toward the door, clutching the key.

"I don't have any shoes," she realizes.

"I'm sure Vasha won't need his anymore."

Her violet eyes flit to the Khajiit's corpse, and she shakes her head. "No. I can't."

The assassin hums. "Have a nice walk then."

Iris shoves the key in the lock, twisting it and pushing the door open. She dashes outside, ignoring the frozen ground before collapsing into a heap behind the shack. She clamps her hand over her mouth, her chest heaving. She can't believe she did that. She killed him just because a Dark Brotherhood assassin told her to. No one had a contract. They were all innocent. A loud sob leaves her lips, as she trembles, riddled with guilt. No one can ever know. No one can ever know about this. If anyone in the Guild found out that she stole a Dark Brotherhood contract and was force to repay it by killing another innocent—

No. This is a secret that will follow her to her grave. Bryn can never find out. If he knew she got tangled up in a Dark Brotherhood affair… No. No one will ever know. No matter what it takes.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! As always, favorite, follow, and review! :)**


	20. Chapter 20

**Hi, everyone! Thank you all so much for sticking with this story. It makes me so happy to know there are so many of you reading it! Unfortunately, I have to make a small change.**

 **From this point forward, I'm going to be posting new chapters every TWO weeks. **

**I know! I'm so sorry! But a lot of this story was prewritten, and I haven't worked on it for a while. I want to give myself time to write more of the story; I'd hate to leave you hanging altogether as I scramble to finish the chapters. So, this is what I've decided.**

 **But, anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you all for hanging around for so long!**

* * *

"Have you—"

"Seen Iris?" Vex finishes for Brynjolf. "No, I haven't. Which is weird. I thought she'd finish that Dawnstar job in a day or two. It's been four."

"I know. I haven't seen her since she got back from Windhelm." He places his hands on the table, leaning on it.

"Hmm. I wouldn't worry too much yet."

"But her horse is still in the stables."

"Maybe she wanted to walk."

"No—"

"Listen, Bryn. I'm sure everything is fine. You worry too much." She places a reassuring hand on his arm.

"Don't you dare start with that 'maybe it's better this way' bollocks," he growls, shrugging her hand off.

"I wasn't going to say that." She crosses her arms. "Listen, if she still isn't back in two days, go look for her."

"But that means—"

"Yes, I know." Vex waves her hand. "I know. But it's clear that you won't get much done around here if you're too busy worrying about your little protege."

Brynjolf nods eagerly. "Alright."

"It's only a day and a half's walk to Dawnstar. She should've been back by now." Vex runs a hand through her blonde locks. "On second thought, maybe you'd better check her house, just to be safe."

"I will. Thank you, Vex." Brynjolf leaves the Flagon, heading straight for the ladder leading to the surface. After the whole business with the courier, Brynjolf hadn't seen Iris for four days. At all. Not even a fleeting glance as he walked through the Guild. She's been nowhere to be found. It's worrying him like Oblivion. Last time she was gone for this long…

Brynjolf shakes his head adamantly. He can't think about that just yet. He marches straight to her house and takes out a lock pick to unlock her door. But, to his surprise, the door is already unlocked. His hand gripping the hilt of his dagger, Brynjolf nudges the door open and slips inside with caution. Honeyside lies in mostly darkness, a few rays of the setting suns pooling on her bed. Everything looks fine. He walks to her bed, noting that it's actually been made for once. She never makes her bed. He slips his hand under her pillow, expecting to feel the dagger she always keeps there. But his hand comes away with nothing. His brow furrowing, Brynjolf strains to reign in his apprehension. He continues to search the house, but finds everything to be in order. A little too in order, he realizes. Dropping to the ground, he peers underneath all the pieces of furniture, swiping his hand under them. He gasps when his hand catches on something sharp. He draws the object out and finds it's Iris's dagger. The one she keeps under her pillow. So, what was it doing underneath her bookshelf? Lying on the ground, he studies the undersides of all her furniture, a long, black object catching his eye. He reaches under the cabinet and pulls out a poisoned dart.

"By the Nine…" he whispers.

Looking to her bedside, he notices her bag sitting upon her end table. She'd never leave without her bag. Which means, Gods, someone must have taken her by force. Poisoned her and then taken her. He looks to the door and finds her Nightingale boots on the rug. The rest of her Nightingale armor hangs neatly in her wardrobe and her Elven sword atop the chest. A hard lump forms in his throat as he examines the dart and dagger. Who in Oblivion would kidnap her from her own house? His breathing shallow, he falls onto her bed, leaning against the headboard as the blood drains from his face. Gods, and that note she got…What did it say? Was it sent by the same person who took her? Brynjolf exhales shakily, his entire body trembling, and forces himself to his feet. He tucks the evidence into his bag and heads to the door.

"Gods damn it, Iris. What in Oblivion have you gotten yourself into?" he laments before ducking back out into Riften, heading to the Guild to show Vex what he's found.

* * *

Iris stumbles through the snow in her threadbare tunic and pants, her bare feet completely numb. She looks down, checking, as she has been, to make sure they haven't gotten frostbite. Not yet. She wraps her arms around herself, shivering violently and cursing that Dark Brotherhood assassin.. The initial terror and stomach-churning guilt has fallen behind her mind-numbing hatred for the damned assassin who kidnapped her and left her with no cloak, no weapon, no shoes, no gold. Instead of heading straight back to Honeyside, Iris decided to travel to Morthal to scrounge up enough money to get her home. But even the seemingly short walk to Morthal drags on and on. Iris supposes the lack of proper winter attire and no shoes has to do with it.

Finally, thank the Gods, Iris spots the gates for Morthal and practically runs into the nearest inn. She plants herself by the warm hearth to thaw out before asking for help. Her words would probably be undecipherable given the violent chattering of her teeth. No less than ten minutes later, Iris is warm enough to ask the innkeeper for help.

"Please, I was taken from my home in Riften. I need to get back, but I don't have any money or even a pair of shoes," Iris pleads.

The innkeeper peers at her. "Do you really think I'm stupid enough to fall for your little ploy?"

Iris falters, stunned. "Wha–what?"

"Your act may have worked on others, but I'm not gullible like the rest."

"No, I swear, I'm not lying. Please—"

"Get out before I call the guards."

"No, but I—"

"Guards!" the innkeeper shouts.

"No, please. Fine, I'm leaving." Iris raises her hands, palms facing the innkeeper, and backs away.

Fighting back frustrated tears, the young Breton steps back out into the frigid air, whimpering in pain when her feet touch the snow.

"Are you alright, miss?"

Startled, Iris turns, finding an old beggar man sitting on a thin mat, a tankard at his side, a few coins littering the bottom. He watches her with worried eyes.

"Yeah, I–I'm fine," she mutters.

The beggar chuckles, eyeing her feet. "Barefoot in the snow? No cloak? Either you're as rich as me, or you've gotten yourself into some trouble, am I right?"

Iris bites her lip, feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes. "Something like that."

"I might have an extra pair of foot wraps around here—"

"Oh no, it's fine, really," Iris protests, not wanting to take any of the beggar's precious belongings. "I can't—"

"I don't need to go anywhere. I insist." The beggar holds out a pair of shabby looking foot wraps.

Her lips part soundlessly, tentatively reaching out for the wraps. "Th–thank you," she stutters, accepting his gift. Tears prickle her eyes, taken aback by his kindness and generosity, he who has nearly nothing. "I wish I could pay you, but—"

"Nonsense." The beggar cracks a smile. "May the Divines bless the ground upon you walk."

"Thank you," Iris sniffles. "What's your name?"

"Hodaar."

"I'm Iris." She gives him a watery smile. "Thank you. Gods bless your kind soul."

Sniffling, Iris continues on her way, walking aimlessly until she finds a snow-covered bench. Swiping the snow away, she sits down and puts on the foot wraps. Once she gets back to Riften, she vows to come back to repay Hodaar's kindness. Wiping her eyes, she admires the wraps around her feet. Though they provide little warmth, it's better than walking with bare feet. Now, she just needs a cloak and some gold. She's sure she can manage with her magic and Thu'ums in lieu of a weapon. She studies her surroundings, noting a richly decorated house. Sighing softly, she peers down at her feet, wondering if she could sweep the house in foot wraps and no armor. She can't think of anything else; she can't buy anything if she doesn't have gold. And she needs to get back as soon as possible. Hating herself, she gets up off the bench, casually walking around the house before slipping through the window.

" _Laas_ ," she Whispers. Finding no auras around her, she sighs in relief, immediately going to one of the wardrobes and finding a pair of sturdy boots. She slides them on over the foot wraps and continues looking. Minutes later, she leaves the house, clutching her newfound belongings: a small coin purse, slice of bread, and a dagger. She devours the bread, noting the time. Tucking the dagger into her waistband, she sets off down the road. At this rate, she should get back to Riften in a day or two.

* * *

Brynjolf rubs his eyes impatiently, watching Vex and Delvin speculate over the dart and Iris's dagger.

"But the rest of the house looked fine?" Delvin asks, running his finger over the tip of the dart.

"Aye. A little too fine, if you ask me. Iris's bed was made. She never makes her bed. Never," Brynjolf answers seriously.

"Maybe she felt like cleaning up a bit?" Delvin suggests.

Brynjolf shakes his head. "No. I can't explain it…Someone was in there. Someone must have gone back and cleaned up after themselves after they took Iris."

"Are you sure she was taken?" Vex asks, quirking an eyebrow. "Maybe she just ran off. She tends to do that."

"Why would she have a poisoned dart lying underneath her cabinet? And the dagger she keeps under her pillow was on the floor, too." Brynjolf groans, standing up and pacing. "Something is wrong. I just know it. You didn't see her after that courier delivered that note."

"Did you look for it in her house?" Delvin asks.

"No. I'm sure she did away with it. She…likes to keep me out of things that could potentially worry me." He growls internally. Damned Iris and her secrets. "I swear, she's too headstrong for her own good sometimes."

Delvin furrows his eyebrows, studying the dart. "I haven't seen something like this since…" he trails off, meeting Brynjolf's eyes and shaking his head. "Never mind."

"I asked around, and no one saw her leave," Vex interjects. "The only thing everyone's talking about is that old hag's murder. Grelod or something."

Brynjolf moans, leaning with his elbows on against a crate.

"I wouldn't worry too much yet, Bryn," Vex assures him.

"It's been five days, Vex."

"She's been gone for longer before."

"Aye, when Mercer told us she was dead," Brynjolf tosses back.

Vex crosses her arms, looking to Delvin. "I'll send some of ours out. Have them look for her. Maybe Rune, Vipir, and Sapphire. I can have them split up. Okay?" She peers at the Nord. "In the meantime, why don't we check out her house again, alright?"

Brynjolf swipes a hand across his face. "Fine."

"It was already unlocked when I came here earlier," Brynjolf explains to Vex as he opens the door to Honeyside.

"I see what you mean about it looking a little too nice," Vex comments as she steps inside. "I mean, I don't know Iris as well as you do, but no one keeps their house this freakishly clean."

"Look." Brynjolf strides to her wardrobe, showing Vex the armor inside. "Her armor is still here, and her bag, too." He points to her bag. "And her sword."

"That is a little odd…" Vex walks around the house, stopping every now and then to look more closely at something. "Look. Ashes." She kneels by the fireplace, sifting the ashes around. "These ashes are finer than wood." She peers up at Brynjolf. "Maybe she burned that note you mentioned."

"Of course she fucking did," Brynjolf growls, gripping the roots of his hair.

Vex straightens up. "What kind of kidnapper would come back to clean up her house? I know Iris wouldn't have just let herself be taken. She would've fought like hell. So, why is nothing broken or knocked over? Why would her kidnapper want to make it look like nothing happened here?"

"Why would they need to clear their tracks?" Brynjolf mutters, peering around the space.

The two thieves stand in silence, deep in thought for a long while.

The setting sun finally settles beneath the horizon. Brynjolf halts his pacing when he notices the lack of sunlight flooding through the windows.

"We should probably get back, Bryn," Vex suggests gently.

"I suppose." He feels like he's been deflated.

Vex must notice because she touches his arm. "Rune, Vipir, and Sapphire are setting out tomorrow to look for her. We'll find her, Bryn. I promise you."

"I thought you didn't care for her."

"She may not be my favorite person, but she makes you happy. And I care about you, Bryn. You're one of my closest friends, and I want you to be happy."

"Even if that means I may be kicked out of the Guild?" he brings up bitterly.

Vex opens her mouth soundlessly before sighing. "You know the rules. The Guild has to come first."

"Forcing us apart doesn't magically change my priorities, you know."

"I know. I guess I had hoped forcing you apart would make you refocus. But…it obviously hasn't worked." She exhales, running a hand through her blonde locks.

Brynjolf says nothing, hoping the next words out of Vex's mouth are the words he's been hoping to hear since she placed the stupid ban on him and Iris.

Her lips part; Brynjolf holds his breath in anticipation—

And the back door creaks open.

* * *

 **CLIFFHANGER! MWAHAHA!**

 **Damn, now I feel extra bad about leaving a cliffhanger since I'm updating every 2 weeks now :( I'm so sorry!**

 **As always, please favorite, follow, and review! Special thanks to lady73 and "Guest" for the reviews last week!**

 **See you in two weeks! :)**


	21. Chapter 21

**I AM SO SORRY.**

 **I can't believe I forgot to post yesterday! I even put it on my calendar! To be fair, I just moved back home from college earlier this week and have been super busy unpacking, but still! Agh, I'm so sorry :(**

 **Anyway, here's the next installment! Thank you all for sticking with me and reading! Enjoy!**

* * *

Whirling around, Brynjolf finds Iris stepping inside, her face wrought with strain and fear, looking as though she's been to Oblivion and back. But, with a gasp, she lifts her violet eyes, finding she's not alone, and her expression immediately smooths out into one of nonchalance.

"Iris." Brynjolf rushes to her side, looking her up and down. Her cheeks are tinged pink, her arms speckled with goosebumps, her feet wearing oversized boots, still clad in her pajamas. "By the Nine, are you alright?"

She chokes out a fairly convincing laugh. "Yeah, I'm fine. What's with the welcome party?"

Vex furrows her eyebrows. "Where were you? You've been gone for five days and left everything behind." She gestures to the Elven sword and armor.

Iris shrugs. "I went out."

"Without your bag, sword, and armor?" Brynjolf demands.

She sighs, grinning slightly. "I wanted to try something new. I went out without any of my stuff to see if I could make it to Windhelm and back. As a survival exercise."

"Bullshit." Brynjolf grips her arm, inches from her face. "I'm tired of your lies, Iris. I deserve to know—"

"You _deserve_ to know?" Iris spits, her eyes flashing. "I don't owe you anything—"

"You disappeared overnight and were gone for five days. I found the dagger you keep under your pillow on the floor and a poisoned dart under your cabinet. Don't feed me shit about survival exercises."

The two lovers are too busy arguing to notice Vex's swift disappearance out the door.

"Poisoned dart? What in Nocturnal's name are you talking about?" Iris scoffs, gripping the fingers holding her arm.

"I found a poisoned dart on the ground. Don't try to deny it, Iris. Someone broke in here, didn't they? They took you away, didn't they? That note you got—it had something to do with it." He moves his other hand to wrap around her other arm. "Please, just tell me the truth, Iris! For once!" His desperation gets the better of him, and he shakes her violently with his words. "Just tell me the fucking truth!"

All at once, her nonchalant mask shatters, fat tears rolling down her cheeks as she begins to weep, her lip trembling.

Brynjolf's face slackens in shock, frozen. But then he gently draws her into his arms, muttering in her ear. "Shh, it's alright, love. I'm—I'm sorry."

As for Iris, everything that's happened in the past few days—getting taken by the assassin, being forced to murder an innocent, barely making it home without getting hypothermia—finally breaks her. She buries her face into his shoulder, breathing in his scent, trying to calm herself down.

He holds her, unmoving, as she weeps, clinging to him as though he's a lifeline. He continues to whisper in her ear, trying to comfort her, but he knows this is something she just has to get out of her system. Whatever happened must have been traumatic to affect her in this way.

She eventually calms down enough for him to suggest they sit on the bed. He makes her some tea and covers her with a thick blanket before sitting next to her.

After a long silence, he finally asks. "Will you tell me what happened?" he asks gently.

She sniffles, rubbing her eyes before returning her hand to grip the steaming cup. "I don't know where to start," she whispers.

"How about with that note?"

Her brow creases, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Oh…that…" She takes a shuddering breath. "Um, it was from High Rock…Remember the priestess I told you about? Ianthe?"

"The one who raised you, right?"

Iris nods, tears leaking from her eyes again. "She…she's dead. That note was a letter of inheritance. Sh–she left me some money. I wasn't even related to her, and she thought of me in her will—" She breaks off, her body wracked with renewed sobs.

Brynjolf carefully takes the cup of tea from her hands, setting it on the end table before wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

She strains to regain herself. "But that note—it didn't have anything to do with–with what happened after."

"You don't have to tell me tonight, love—"

But she shakes her head. "No, I have to get it out." She squeezes her eyes shut, her chest heaving. "After I got the letter, I came back here and—and I…drank a lot of wine. I just wanted to feel better, you know?" She exhales sharply. "I went to bed early; I got sleepy from the wine. And—and the next thing I know, something made me wake up. I—I got the dagger from under my pillow and tried to—tried to fend them off but—" She stops, burying her face in her hands. "I couldn't do it. They stabbed me with that dart, and it knocked me out. I woke up in the middle of nowhere. I–I don't know what happened."

"Are you hurt?"

"No. And nothing was taken. I don't know—I was just so scared." Her body shakes with tears, and he embraces her.

"It's over now. You're back here, safe and sound." He strokes her hair, tears prickling his own eyes. He's never seen her like this. Not since she woke up after he found her on the side of the road. He lets her cry it out, until he's sure she has no more tears left in her small body.

She finally calms, pulling away.

He swipes a tear from her face with his thumb. "You should get some sleep, love. You've…been through a lot."

She nods silently, letting him tuck her in. "Will you stay?" she whispers, gripping his hand.

"We're not supposed to—"

"Please?" Her voice is so soft and pleading that he decides Vex will understand.

"Okay." He climbs in beside her, kissing her forehead. "Good night, love."

"Good night, Bryn." She shifts, rolling to her side to face him. "I love you."

He smiles, kissing her softly on the lips. "I love you, too, lass. Now, get some sleep."

* * *

As Bryn snores softly beside her, Iris lies awake with widened eyes, unable to get a wink of sleep for the guilt tumbling around in her gut. How could she lie to him? Flat out lie? Everything she told him was a lie. And he believed her. He believed every word. She lets out a shuddering breath, rolling over to watch him sleep soundly. She watches as his chest rises and falls steadily, his face completely relaxed, his lips slightly parted. He's her best friend. She's told him things she's never told anyone. He was her first friend in Skyrim. He understood the pain caused by her past. He listened with rapport, hanging onto every word when she told him about her parents. And now, she's lied to him. He was worried about her, asked her what had happened, and she gave him a big, fat lie. The guilt from her false story drops stones into her stomach, tumbling around like stones at the bottom of a rapid. What would he do if he found out the truth? She shakes her head. Nothing. Because he won't find out the truth. As awful as it feels to lie to him, it'd be worse if he knew the truth. And he can't know that she's been considering the Dark Brotherhood's invitation.

She almost smacks herself in the forehead. What in Oblivion is she thinking? Joining a guild of assassins? When she's this torn up about killing two people? There's no way. It goes against all her values. Thieving is one thing. Murder is another. She could never do it. And what would Bryn think? If he found out she was in the Dark Brotherhood? She'd lose him for sure.

Shaking her head, she shoves the thoughts from her mind. Her debt has been repaid. Her business with the Dark Brotherhood is over. Now, she just needs to focus on the Guild. And returning the Key.

She swipes a stray hair from Bryn's face, smiling to herself when his eyelashes flutter. She lightly kisses his cheek and burrows back into her pillow. The sun is going to come up soon. Might as well try to get some sleep.

* * *

 **Special thanks to Mia78, Manu, the two "Guests", Suzy540, and TheSilentShadows for the reviews! I love hearing from you all!**

 **Don't forget to favorite, follow, and review!**

 **I may post a little something next Friday to apologize for being late! We'll see ;)**


	22. Chapter 22

**Surprise! Bonus chapter because I was horrible and forgot to post last Friday!**

* * *

"Good morning, love."

Iris hums happily as his lips find hers. She pries an eye open, squinting against the sun.

"What time is it?" she asks.

"Half past nine."

She curls closely to him, relishing in his warmth as he draws her closer.

"Let's just stay in bed all day today," she mutters, her voice rough from sleep.

He chuckles softly, swiping hair out of her face. "I wish we could, love."

She covers his hand with hers, keeping it against her cheek. "Everything is just becoming too much, you know? I've been on the go for so long, that I've nearly forgotten how to relax."

He hums, a smirk lighting up his eyes. "Maybe I can help with that."

A laugh bubbles past her smiling lips when he wraps his arm around her waist. She bites her lip, his face less than an inch from hers, their noses touching. Her heart pounds in her chest, exhilarated, and she grows tired of this playing around. Without hesitation, she grabs the back of his neck and closes the small gap between their lips. Her insides shudder as she moves her lips against his, the stubble on his face scratching hers. His hand tangles in her hair as he rolls to lean over her, peppering kisses down her neck. Her chest heaving, she grips his shoulders, rolling him over so she's the one leaning over him.

"This is better," she mutters, the corner of her mouth lifting.

He laughs softly before pulling her closer once more. She pushes his hair back, slipping her tongue between his lips. He eagerly obliges, and her insides tumble at his touch. Gods, she doesn't want this to ever end. She wishes she could stay right here with him for the rest of eternity. This is what Sovngarde would be for her. His hand finds the pulse point in her neck; her heart thunders as if it will shatter. She can hardly breathe for the fluttering in her chest. But she suddenly feels as though they're not alone. She feels eyes on them. Something makes her look to the window—the uncovered window—

"Fuck!" she bursts out, tumbling off of him and out of bed. She stumbles to the window and draws the curtain.

"What's wrong?" He leaps to his feet.

She leans against the wall, panting. "Someone was there. Watching us." She points to the window.

His brow furrows as he goes to the window, peering out from behind the curtain. "Whoever it was is gone now. Hopefully, it wasn't someone from the Guild." He turns, watching her.

She runs a hand through her hair, exhaling in a puff. "Oh, Gods. I really hope not." Her violet eyes flit up to his in worry.

"Regardless, that was a pretty good way to start the day," he says with a smirk.

She tries to fight the smile from forming on her face but loses, crossing her arms and touching her lips. "I have to stop by the Guild today. You should probably head there first. We don't want them to think we're…" She tilts her head, taking a step toward him, her lips touching his ear. "…up to something, hmm?"

His arm encircles her waist. "I swear, lass, you'll be the death of me." He smiles down at her. "I love you."

"And I love you." She gently leaves his grasp. "Now, shoo! I have important things to do today."

"I thought you said you wanted some time off?"

"I said I _wanted_ time off, not that I _had_ some." She elbows him playfully.

"I'll see you in the Flagon, then." He starts toward the door. "And if anyone asks, I only stayed over because you weren't feeling very well."

She nods in agreeance, following him to the door.

"Are you going to be alright?" he asks.

She quirks an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure I can find my way to the Flagon by myself, Bryn."

"No, I mean…I meant about Ianthe, your priestess." He shifts uncomfortably.

She bites her lip, her gaze falling to the floor. "Oh, uh, yeah…it'll just take time, I guess."

He places a hand on her arm, offering her a reassuring smile. "Well, you know that I'm always here if you ever want to talk."

She smiles, covering his hand. "Thanks, Bryn. I'll see you at the Flagon."

He leaves her with a smile before slipping out into Riften.

Immediately, the guilt stabs her in the heart again and practically deflates her, her smile sliding off her face. Groaning, she sinks onto her bed. Because of her lie, she finds herself thinking of the priestess who raised her. Ianthe. Iris smiles to herself. Ianthe named her, taught her the ways of Kynareth, taught her how to walk, talk, and, eventually, told her of her true parentage. Iris hadn't known exactly what happened to her, but she had known that Ianthe wasn't her real mother.

Iris closes her eyes, thinking back on the morning she found out. It was the morning she left for Skyrim.

 _"_ _Iris, dear," Ianthe's voice floats up the stairs._

 _Iris stuffs one last book into her bulging bag and grabs her cloak before descending the stairs. "Yes?"_

 _Ianthe looks a bit nervous, but Iris figures it is because she is about to leave. "Come. Sit and have tea with me before you go."_

 _A little worried, Iris flits down the stairs, lifting the hem of her skirt, and takes the seat across from the priestess._

 _"_ _Milk and sugar?"_

 _Iris quirks an eyebrow. "Do you need to ask?" She laughs._

 _Ianthe returns her giggle, smiling to herself. "I'm going to miss you, darling." Her fingers brush a hair from the Breton's face._

 _Iris takes her hand. "I'll miss you, too, Ianthe."_

 _"_ _Listen…there's something you should know. Before you leave."_

 _Iris's eyebrows furrow over her violet eyes. "What is it?"_

 _"_ _I…I think it's about time you knew. About your parents."_

 _"_ _Oh." Iris drops her gaze, running her fingers along the rim of her teacup._

 _Ianthe reaches across the table to touch her hand. "Darling, there is no easy way for me to tell you this."_

 _"_ _They're dead, aren't they?" Iris's voice is blunt, devoid of emotion._

 _"_ _I'm…I'm not sure. Their whereabouts are unknown, though." Ianthe sighs. "I suppose it's best if I start from the beginning. A little over twenty years ago, I was here, in this very chapel, very late at night when I heard a knock on the door. I thought nothing of it. The doors are open at any time, so I figured whoever was knocking would just come in. Well, no one did. The next morning, I was opening the curtains and preparing the alters when I heard a sound from outside." Her blue eyes find Iris's violet. "It was a child crying. I ran to the door and flung it open to find a young Breton, two years old, sitting on the chapel steps, left behind."_

 _Iris's lips part silently, tears filling her eyes._

 _"_ _It was you, Iris, darling." Ianthe blinks, tears forming in her own eyes. "I immediately let you in and asked your name, but you said you didn't have one. I named you Iris, after Kynareth's favored flower. I tried looking for your parents for years after you appeared on my doorstep, but they weren't to be found."_

 _"_ _They just left me there?" Iris asks quietly, tears falling down her cheeks._

 _"_ _I'm sorry, Iris. I know it's difficult to hear, but I know you've been wondering. I wanted you to know of your true parentage before you left." Ianthe squeezes Iris's hands. "But I still consider you my own daughter. You are the Gods' gift to me. I knew when I took the oath as a priestess that I could never marry or have a family. But you made it possible for me to have a daughter without breaking my sacred oath. And I love you like my own." Ianthe's hand goes to Iris's wet cheek._

 _"_ _I love you, too, Ianthe." Iris stares into Ianthe's blue eyes and knows that even though her parents left her, abandoned her, she will always be glad that is was Ianthe who found her and raised her._

 _Ianthe huffs out a sigh, blinking tears from her eyes. "Well, I suppose it's almost time for you to grow up and leave, hm? Want to help me collect flowers for the alters one last time?"_

 _"_ _Always." Iris smiles._

Iris swipes tears from her eyes, remembering. Gods, she didn't realize how much she misses Ianthe. Shaking her thoughts away, she climbs off the bed and changes into her Nightingale armor, leaving the mask behind. Hooking her sword on her belt, she swings her bag over her shoulder and, after one last roving look over her house, steps out into the city and heads to the Guild.

* * *

 **Ooh, backstory!**

 **I'll be posting another chapter this Friday, and the schedule will go back to normal!**

 **Special thanks to SMJW27410, Mia78, TheSilentShadows, and Guest for the reviews last week!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Hi, everyone! I hope you all had a fantastic week!**

 **Here's the next chapter!**

* * *

"Bryn." Iris's smile widens as she greets him in the Flagon.

"Iris," he smirks, giving her a nod. He watches as she crosses the cavern to speak with Vex. Probably about her Dawnstar job.

He leans against the wall, drinking his mead as he watches the beautiful Breton lass. As if she can feel his eyes, Iris turns and gestures him to join her and Vex. Confused, he places his tankard on a table and makes his way over to them.

"Brynjolf," Vex starts, looking between the Nord and the Breton. "I'm sending you two on a job. A sweep in Solitude."

He looks to Iris and finds her face mirroring his surprise.

"Seriously?" Iris asks Vex.

The blonde nods curtly. "There's one catch."

"I knew it," Brynjolf mutters.

"You have to sweep the Blue Palace."

Silence.

"The Blue Palace," Iris repeats incredulously.

"I expect it to go well. You're two of our best thieves, which is why we've decided to lift the ban for this job." Vex crosses her arms after handing Iris a piece of parchment. "That's the list of items you need to take."

"Who are these for?" Brynjolf asks, reading the list over Iris's shoulder.

"I don't know. They asked to remain anonymous. But it's through Maven, so it's legitimate."

Iris nods, tucking the parchment into her bag. "Alright." She turns to him. "Let's go," she says, a smile tugging at her lips.

* * *

"Okay, who did you bribe?" Iris's eyebrows arch in suspicion as she walks alongside him.

"I thought that was you." He lets out a low laugh as she shakes her head.

"No, I didn't say anything!"

He hums thoughtfully, pushing the gate open. "I did almost get Vex to lift our ban last night."

Iris frowns as she makes her way to the stables. "Last night?"

He nods, climbing onto his horse. "Aye. We went to your house so I could show her that you were really missing. She said that she had hoped keeping us apart would make us refocus but it hasn't worked. She was going to say something else, but then you came in."

"Maybe this is a start, though," Iris comments, mounting her horse and joining him on the road. "Gods, but robbing the Blue Palace?" She shakes her head, smirking. "This is going to be fun."

"What all do we need to grab?"

She pulls the list from her pocket. "One flawless emerald, one ornate drinking horn, one enchanted Elven dagger, and one…Stone of Barenziah? What's that?"

Brynjolf pulls his horse to a halt. "A Stone of Barenziah?" He swipes the list from her hands. "By the Nine…she actually found one."

Iris huffs, crossing her arms. "What is a Stone of Barenziah?"

"I thought it was just a legend, though I did think the same of the Nightingales, didn't I? A long time ago, a thief stole Queen Barenziah's crown. It was an incredible heist, and to cover his tracks, he pried all the stones from the crown and sold them off all over Tamriel. One stone alone is completely worthless, but it's said there are twenty-four stones in all. If we found all of them, the collection would be worth thousands. Vex must have found out that Elisif has one." He chuckles softly. "I'm going to start believing every legend I hear from now on." He hands the list back to her, and she tucks it back in her pocket.

They nudge their horses onward and continue on in silence.

But Iris's mind still whirls at her blatant lies to her best friend. She looks to him, finding him studying the road ahead, apparently oblivious to her gaze. Biting her lip, she tears her eyes from him, trying to quiet the rattling accusations in her head. _He thought you were dead, and this is how you repay him. With lies, lies, and more lies. You almost died together, confessed your love to each other, and survived. And, now, you're lying to him._ A soft growl leaves her lips on accident as she reaches up to rub her temple.

"You alright, lass?"

"Yeah. Just a slight headache." _Another lie._ She screams at herself in her head to stop.

"So, remember when we were speaking outside the Flagon, just before the courier came?" Bryn brings up.

Her insides turn to stone. "Yeah…"

"You were asking me if I've ever done something I regret."

She sees him watch her in her peripheral vision. But she doesn't reply.

"I have." He sighs when she doesn't speak. Iris watches him rub the back of his neck, shifting the horse's bridle to one hand. "About two or three months ago, I met someone," he starts.

Iris finally turns her head to look at him in confusion.

"She was beautiful, mysterious, looked like the type entangled in illegal affairs. I gave her a little test, which she passed effortlessly."

She huffs in frustration. "Bryn—" she begins to protest. He's talking about her.

But he talks over her. "I convinced her to join the Guild. She did because I had given her a taste of what we did." He swallows. "A month passed, and we had grown close. Mercer decided to recruit her for a job and left. Headed to somewhere called Snow Veil Sanctum."

Iris clenches her jaw, knowing where this is going.

"She didn't come back. Because she was dead. Killed by a traitor." Bryn shakes his head. "I regretted recruiting her, then. I wished that I could turn back time and let her peruse the market without interruption. I wished that I could stop her from catching my attention. I–I wanted to trade. I wished that it was me who was killed instead of her. And it was my fault because I convinced her to join. I even prayed to the Gods, said 'Take me instead.' I wished I had never met her, because I had led her to her death." He finally looks at her. "That was my biggest regret, love."

"That wasn't your fault, Bryn," she mutters.

"In a roundabout way it was. If you hadn't joined the Guild, you never would have gone with Mercer."

"But then I never would have met you." She looks away, shaking her head. "I'd be worse off, I know it." Maybe she'd be in the Dark Brotherhood.

"In any case, I felt responsible. And I replayed that moment in the market over and over, wishing I could travel back and stop myself. But…you're here now. You're still here." He sighs, rubbing his eyes.

She knows he's waiting for her to reciprocate. For her to tell him about what she did. She knows she should, but she can't get herself to open her mouth. "I–I don't want to talk about it, Bryn," she finally says, her shoulder sagging. "Maybe another time, but I just…I don't want to get into it right now."

He frowns but nods, unknowingly breaking her heart with his understanding. "Alright, lass."

* * *

 **What would Bryn do if he found out about all Iris's lies?**

 **Special thanks to TheSilentShadows and Guest for the reviews!**

 **As always, favorite, follow, and review! See you in two weeks! :)**


	24. Chapter 24

**Hi, everyone! It feels like it's been so long!**

 **Special thanks to TheSilentShadows, Lydia, and Guest for the reviews!**

* * *

They ride on in mostly silence, with the occasional comment or acknowledgement as they continue down the road. Eventually, they stop for a break at the side of a river. Iris grabs the packed lunches from her bag and joins Brynolf on the blanket he spread out. She hands him his lunch without a word and starts on her own, watching the clouds roll by.

Brynjolf watches her in concern, noting the glazed look in her eyes and the slight furrow of her soft brow. He wishes he could help her with everything. But there's no way to make someone's death easier, he knows this. Still, he wishes he could take her pain from the loss of her priestess away. She's been much more reserved during their trip so far, and he hates it. He hates seeing her like this.

Sighing, he sets down his lunch and scoots closer to her. She flinches when he takes her hand, and she tears her gaze from the clouds to look at him.

"Do you want to talk about her?" he asks in a soft voice.

He watches as tears spring to her eyes but she gallantly tries to blink them away.

She takes a long, shuddering breath and looks back to the sky. Her shoulders sag as she covers her eyes with her other hand.

"Bryn, I–I need to tell you something—"

But the spell shatters when an arrow soars through the air, barely missing Iris's ear.

"Get down!" Brynjolf pulls her down onto her stomach, both of them laying on the blanket.

"Where is that coming from?" she yells, squinting across the river as arrows fall around them.

"It's a bandit across the river! Come on!" He begins to crawl behind a tree motioning her to follow. Crouching behind the tree, he grips his dagger.

"What are you doing?" she asks, eyeing the weapon.

"Come on. We need to get across." He peeks out at the river.

"What—No, let's just wait it out. He's bound to run out of arrows soon."

"I'm certain he's not the only one over there. The others are probably on their way now. We need to cross the river." Without waiting for her response, he crawls toward the river, using bushes as cover.

"Bryn, wait!"

But he continues on, stopping once he crouches behind a bush on the river's shore. Iris joins him, twisting her hands.

"I think the archer is right behind those trees, probably standing on that small ledge." He points across the churning waters. "Let's go."

"Brynjolf, wait."

He's surprised when Iris's small hand wraps around his arm. He turns to find her eyes widened in something like fear.

"What's wrong?"

She drops her gaze, shaking her head, seemingly ashamed. "I–I can't do it, Bryn."

"Do what, love?"

Her violet eyes raise to watch the water behind him.

His mouth opens without a sound when realization strikes. She's afraid of water.

"I–I can't go in there. Not after—"

"Lass," he takes her face in his hands, "this isn't Irkngthand. It's just a river. You won't drown. I won't let you."

At his words, he hears the distinct sound of footsteps stomping toward their picnic spot.

He curses under his breath. "There's at least ten of them, bandits. They're coming down the road. We need to get across now."

But she shakes her head again, biting her lip. "I–I can't do it."

"Yes, you can," he tells her gently. "We have no choice. Unless you want to fight ten bandits while avoiding arrows."

"No. No, I—"

He carefully takes her arm, guiding her toward the shore as arrows rain down upon them.

"Brynjolf, no, I can't—I can't go in there—"

"I've got you, love."

"No, I can't—I can't do it—Bryn, please—" Her words turn into a scared squeak when they finally enter the cold water.

"It isn't far. Straight across." He points to the opposite shore. "We'll get rid of the archer."

The bandits shout at each other, probably looking for the two hiding thieves.

"Come on." He takes her arm, pulling her deeper into the water.

"No, no, no, Bryn, please stop—I can't—" she panics as the water reaches her chest.

"We're almost halfway—"

He feels her beginning to strain against his grip.

"Lass, we can't go back there. We don't stand a chance against ten of them. No, listen to me." He wraps his hand around her other arm. "This is the only way. I've got you. I won't let you drown. I won't even let you go under, alright?"

She nods, squeezing her eyes shut as a tear drips down her face. "Okay," she sputters. "Okay."

Brynjolf whips his head around when he spots the bandits at the shore. They've found them. A choice word spews from his mouth as he turns back to Iris. "We have to hurry." Without waiting for her response, he tugs her further into the water, now halfway across the river. He pulls her along as the frigid water deepens; he hears her cry out.

"I can't touch," she cries.

"I still can. Hold onto me." Her cold hands find his shoulders, and she holds on as if her life depends on it. Eventually, he finds that he can't touch the bottom anymore. "Iris, I'm going to have to swim the rest of the way, alright? Keep holding onto me." He feels her readjust her grip, wrapping her arms around his upper body, her face burrowed in the crook of his neck as she nods.

He can feel tears dripping onto his skin as her body trembles behind him. Dear Gods, she's terrified.

"We're almost there." His strokes are long and assured…

Until the current grows stronger.

"Fuck!" he bursts out, reaching out to hold onto a rock. His body twists, nearly pulling him under, and he knows, with a twist of his stomach, that Iris was dunked.

She coughs and sputters when she surfaces, smacking his shoulder. "Bryn!" she squeals in terror. Her grip turns to iron around him, and he hears her whimpers in his ear.

"I've got you." With a grunt, he pushes off the rock with his feet and propels through the strong current. He sighs in relief when he finds he can touch the ground once more. "Iris, we're okay. I can touch, and the shore is close."

She nods, her face still buried in his neck as she shivers.

He notices that the arrows have stopped and looks across the river to find the bandits have left.

With their horses.

He curses again, smacking the water with his fist. But there's no way he's turning back now. Not with a terror-stricken Iris on his back.

Finally, they reach the shore, and Iris collapses onto the grass, burying her face in her knees.

Brynjolf straightens up, his eyes roving around the landscape to be sure that the archer is indeed gone. Shaking his head in frustration, he realizes that the archer has left.

"That archer must have been a distraction while the others took our stuff," he growls, finding the ledge upon the archer was standing. "They played us perfectly, Gods damn it." He turns to find Iris quivering on the ground. His frustration evaporates and turns into worry as he crouches down next to her. He wraps his arms around her, and she turns to cry into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, love."

And then she surprises him by pulling away and smacking him across the face, hard.

"Don't you ever fucking do that to me again!" she cries, her wet hair sticking to her cheeks.

"What—" He rubs his jaw, a little bitter that her slap actually hurt. "Iris, we had no choice! And I had no idea you were afraid of water—"

"Of course, I fucking am, Bryn! How can you not be afraid after everything that happened at Irkngthand?!" She pushes him away, getting to her feet, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

"What else could we have done? We had to get away, Iris."

"We could have found another way," she says through tight lips, her back to him.

"And what would that have been? Why didn't you say anything?" He approaches her back.

She whirls around, tears in her eyes. "Because I was scared!" she shrieks. "And you pulled me into the water before I could even suggest something else—"

"They were right behind us by then! We had no time to do anything else—"

"You didn't even give me a choice!"

"You could've said something at any time! I'm not your bloody master!" he roars, his anger getting the better of him. "And you're the fucking Dragonborn! You're the most stubborn person I've ever met! Don't give me this 'I didn't have a choice' bullshit."

Suddenly, he hears the pounding of horses approaching. Spinning around, he finds—who else?—the bandits riding past them on their own horses. A flash of light brown hair appears in front of him, and he realizes Iris means to run after them.

"Iris, stop!" He grabs her arm, turning her around. He gasps when he finds the fire in her eyes, her body shaking in anger.

"Let me go, Brynjolf," she growls.

"Iris, you can't fight them—"

But then, she does the unthinkable. She Shouts at him. " _FUS!_ "

Her Voice pushes him backward, sending him falling to the ground as she dashes off.

"Damn it, Iris!" he bellows, pushing himself to his feet as she whirls away in a flurry of snowflakes. Feeling betrayed, he pushes himself into a dead sprint, following the sound of horses and footsteps. He dashes down the path, turning off onto a overgrown trail, following the bandits. He almost topples off a ledge, panting. But then, he finds the bandits' camp right below him.

And Iris is surrounded by bandits.

She holds no weapon; she doesn't even have flames summoned to her hand. She just stands there, in the circle of bandits, her chest heaving.

"I believe you have something of ours," she says in an even voice. But Brynjolf can detect the underlying rage.

"Oh? Are you here to take it back? All by yourself?" a bandit sneers, laughing along with the others.

Iris nods slowly. "Yes. I am."

Brynjolf frantically scans the ledge, looking for sturdy hand and footholds so he can climb down and help her.

The bandits bark out raucous laughter at her words, their hands on their weapons. "Bring it on, woman."

Iris's mouth spreads into a menacing smile, and Brynjolf knows what's about to happen.

"Iris, no!" he screams.

" _YOL TOOR SHUL!_ "

The bandits' laughter turns into bloodcurdling screaming as Iris's blistering flames scorch and envelope their bodies. Surrounded by a ring of fire, Iris lifts her eyes, staring at Brynjolf with an emotionless expression, seemingly unaware of the wails of agony.

And, for the first time in his life, he's terrified of her. He stumbles backwards into the trees and back onto the trail, finding another trail branched off from the other. He forces himself to follow it, and, sure enough, it leads to the burning camp where Iris picks through the charred bandits' belongings. He carefully steps over a burnt corpse and gasps when she hears him and turns around.

"Our horses are on the main road tied to a tree," she tells him almost nonchalantly. "Our bags are still on them, too." She straightens up, her wet hair and bloodshot eyes giving her a slightly crazed look.

"Iris—"

"Come on." She tosses a dagger back onto its corpse and starts down the trail back to the horses.

* * *

 **Whoa. Iris has kinda lost it, don't you think?**

 **Thanks for reading! Be sure to favorite, follow, and review!**

 **See you in two weeks! :)**


	25. Chapter 25

**Hi, everyone! I feel like it's been so long; I missed all of you!**

 **Here's Chapter 25!**

* * *

Her gaze hard, Iris keeps her eyes on the road, heading toward the inn's stables. Night is falling, and the two thieves decide to stay in the inn until morning. Iris hasn't spoken a word since the bandit incident; the guilt is beginning to drive her to madness.

She wordlessly pays for a room and sets her bag on her bed before lowering herself onto it. She keeps her gaze on her hands as Bryn drops his bag on the floor, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room before mirroring her, sitting on his bed. He says nothing, only sighs softly.

Eventually, Iris can't take the silence any longer.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, finally looking at him. "For…using my Thu'um on you. I shouldn't have done that, and I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "I shouldn't have forced you into the water."

"It doesn't matter, Bryn. I should never have used my Thu'um on you. It wasn't right. That isn't what I'm supposed to use it for and—"

"Iris." He appears in front of her, taking her hands. "It's alright. Tensions were high, and we weren't thinking clearly."

"I guess." She drops her eyes again. He always makes excuses for her, forgives her.

"We should probably get some rest." He lets go of her hands and settles back onto his bed.

Iris lays down as he blows out the candle, her mind spinning. She was going to tell him about the Dark Brotherhood before the bandits attacked. She was going to tell him that she lied about Ianthe's death. She was going to finally reveal the truth to him because she can't stand lying to him. But her chance was ruined. And now, she's not so sure that she wants to tell him. He puts so much trust in her. How can she break that? He's her only friend, her love. There's no telling that if she tells him the truth he won't just leave. Abandon her like her parents. No. She can't do that again. She'll keep everything a secret. She'll stick to her lies, no matter how hard it is. Because, she knows, the alternative would be worse. If he knew, he'd leave.

She forces her eyes closed, burying her face in her pillow, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. She hears Bryn sigh softly as sleep overtakes her.

 _"_ _Iris." Bryn's eyes harden upon seeing the Breton thief enter the cistern._

 _Iris regards him with caution, noting the rest of the Guild standing behind him in the center of the cistern._

 _"_ _What's going on?" she asks, tucking her hands in her pockets._

 _"_ _Don't act like you don't know." Karliah appears next to Bryn. "You've betrayed us. You're no better than Mercer Frey."_

 _"_ _What are you talking about?" Iris swallows a large lump in her throat, her hands trembling._

 _"_ _You know bloody well what we're talking about." Brynjolf crosses his arms, looking at her as though she were a stranger. "You lied to us. To me. Did you really think we wouldn't find out?"_

 _All the air leaves Iris's lungs, leaving her panting as she raises her arms, palms facing the Guild. "Please, I don't know what you're talking about." It's the truth. She doesn't know what she did or what she lied about. She slowly takes a step backwards, but a hand presses against the small of her back._

 _"_ _You're not getting out of this one, Liriiette," Delvin growls._

 _Her heart pounds in her chest as Brynjolf places a chair in the middle of the cistern._

 _"_ _You have to answer for your crimes." He doesn't meet her gaze, looking anywhere but at her eyes. It's like he doesn't even know her._

 _"_ _Bryn, please, what crimes?"_

 _"_ _Thrynn. Dirge."_

 _At Brynjolf's words, the two biggest members of the Guild take Iris's arms, dragging her to the chair._

 _"_ _No! What are you doing?" Iris shrieks when Karliah takes out a long piece of rope and begins to bind her wrists to the armrests. Her wild gaze moves to Brynjolf. "Bryn, please! Stop this!"_

 _Karliah steps back, gesturing to Delvin who hands her a large axe._

 _An executioner's axe._

 _"_ _No!" Iris shrieks, straining against the ropes. "Brynjolf, please!"_

 _"_ _I–It has to be done, Iris." He turns around, his back to her, apparently not wanting to watch._

 _"_ _Bryn! Please! Don't let them do this!"_

 _Karliah approaches, the axe in hand, her eyes hardened to stone. "You betrayed the Guild, betrayed the Nightingales. This is your punishment."_

 _"_ _No! Please, help me! Bryn!"_

 _But he ignores her cries as Karliah raises the axe, his back shaking with sobs._

 _She gives Brynjolf one last gaze. He turns to meet her eyes, his filled with sorrow. But when Karliah looks to him, asking silently for his consent, he nods his head._

 _And the axe comes down._

"No!" Iris's throat tears with her desperate cry, shooting out of bed.

A shadowy figure scrambles, fumbling out of his bed and brandishing his dagger. "Where—What—"

She can't breathe. Her hand clamps over her mouth, straining to catch her breath, but her lungs won't cooperate.

"Iris—" Bryn moves to sit next to her on her bed, but she shakes her head, pushing him away.

"No," she gasps, forcing herself to her feet. She nearly falls; she braces herself with a hand against the wall.

"Was it a nightmare?" he whispers.

She nods quickly, her chest still heaving. She can't look at him. She just saw him condoning her execution. A sob in her throat, she pushes the door open, ignoring him and rushing outside into the cold. She kneels by the water's side, splashing her face with the frigid water and still trying to catch her breath.

It was a figment of her imagination, right? There's no way they'd actually kill her, right? All she did was do one job for the Dark Brotherhood, repaid a debt.

 _But you still have the Skeleton Key_ , a small voice whispers to her.

It's right. She feels the bulge in her pocket, evidence of her unfaithfulness to the Nightingales. She kept meaning to return it, but something always got in the way. She doesn't know if Bryn knows that she still has it. He hasn't asked her about it. She finds herself praying that he won't ask her. She doesn't want to give him yet another lie.

Shaking her head, she finally manages to catch her breath. Running her hands through her tangled hair, she lets out a shuddering sigh. Mercer was killed for his betrayal. He stole from the Guild and Nocturnal herself. His punishment was death. All she's done is lie to her Second and failed to return the Key. She still intends to. She hopes that's the difference. But the more she thinks about her dream, the more ridiculous and unrealistic it seems. Though she still feels she'll collapse under all the lies she's given Bryn. She just wants to get this job over with so she can go in secret to return the Key and forget all about the Dark Brotherhood.

She straightens up, throwing back her shoulders in resolution. For now, she just has to focus on completing the Solitude job. Then, everything else will work itself out.

* * *

Brynjolf buckles his armor, throwing another glance at the Breton thief lying on her bed, fast asleep. He decides to let her sleep in a bit longer; he knows that she had a rough night.

After she ran out of the room in tears, he debated on following her or not. He eventually decided to stay back and give her space. If she wanted his support, she'd have asked. So, he laid back down and feigned sleep when she came back in an hour later.

He silently walks to her side, sweeping a stray hair away from her peaceful face before pulling on his boots. He might as well grab some breakfast while he waits. He makes his way out of the room and chooses a seat next to the roaring hearth. After ordering ale and soup, he settles in, warm and content.

Less than an hour later, he spots Iris leaving the room. Dark circles mar the flesh under her usually bright eyes. He's happy to find her eyes brighten when she spots him. A grin on her face, she joins him at his table, ordering a glass of spiced wine and soup. She eyes his drink with a smirk on her lips.

"A bit early for that, don't you think?"

"Don't play the innocent one, lass. You ordered wine," he counters.

"That's true." She hums happily when the barkeep delivers her meal. "Thank you."

He chuckles as she takes a long draught of wine. "Be careful, love, or I'll have to carry you into the Blue Palace."

She scoffs, leaning close to his ear. "I'm the Dragonborn, Bryn. My metabolism is crazy fast."

"Hmm, am I detecting a challenge?" He arches an eyebrow at her.

She laughs lightly. "Please, it wouldn't be a challenge. I'd win hands down."

"Oh, really?"

She nods, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "It'd be easy. Believe me, you should give up now. You don't want to embarrass yourself." Her eyes glint with mischief.

"Okay, now. You're telling me that you, a tiny Breton, can outdrink me? I'm a Nord. Drinking is in my genes."

She shrugs. "But you're not the Dragonborn, are you?" She laughs, holding her hands up. "When we get to Solitude, after we finish the job, why don't we settle this once and for all? Drinking contest in the Winking Skeever."

"You're on." He laughs as she downs the rest of her wine.

"You're going to regret challenging me," she teases.

He shrugs. "If anything, we'll end up drinking a lot. Hell, and it'll be a night to remember."

She nods, sipping her soup. "I never say no to crazy nights."

"Gods know we've had a lot of those. The good kind and the bad kind."

She exhales, widening her eyes. "Yeah. We have."

He glances out the window at the snow flurries gently floating down from the white sky. "We'll head out once you're done. Hopefully, the roads won't be too bad."

"That's what horses are for."

* * *

The two thieves make it to Solitude as the day draws to a close. Exhausted, they decide to spend the night at the Winking Skeever and do the sweep first thing in the morning.

"Here." Iris drops a pile of richly colored clothes on the bed. "Got these at Radiant Raiment. Supposedly, they're fit to go to the Blue Palace in. Taarie was kind enough to tell me how awful my outfit was and how these were better, so…hopefully, that was money well spent."

Brynjolf laughs, holding up a deep green outfit, complete with fur on the shoulders. "Gods, these are awful. But we'll blend in."

Iris chuckles to herself, holding up the royal blue outfit and the deep purple one. "Oh, whichever will I choose?" she moans sarcastically.

"Hmm." He crosses the room, looking over her shoulder. "This one." He points to the purple. "For your eyes."

"Ooh, Bryn. Maybe you should take Taarie's job," Iris coos, her eyes glistening with humor.

His mouth twitches into a mischievous smile as he wraps an arm around her middle, pulling her backwards before tossing her lightly on the bed.

"Hey!" She giggles as he leans over her.

"First, the drinking contest, now this? Cut me some slack here, lass."

"I'm just being honest." She smirks.

He can't help but chuckle to himself. Honestly, he's just happy that she's in a good enough mood to tease him. This is the Iris he grew to love. With his thoughts, he leans down and kisses her softly.

She hums happily, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. His hands tangle in her hair as he deepens the kiss. Iris hasn't been herself lately. Ever since she came back from being abducted. He's glad that she's somewhat returned to the happy, teasing lass he fell in love with. He hates seeing her so torn up and full of despair. So, he's gentle with her. He doesn't want to force her to do anything she doesn't want to. He lets her take control of their passion, and he follows her lead.

So, when he finds her slipping her tongue between his lips, he's a bit surprised but reacts. One of his hands moves to cup her face as their lips move against one another. He feels her rising in intensity, her lips more eager and forceful against his. She pulls away for half a second to gasp before her hands slip behind his head and pull him even closer. He breathes in, drugged by her flowery scent. He lets it wind around his mind, lets it take him over, intoxicated by her.

But she finally breaks the spell, pulling back, her chest heaving. She lets out a soft laugh before muttering, "I'm glad Vex sent us on this job."

He chortles. "Aye, me too."

Her beautiful eyes flit up to meet his. "I love you, Bryn."

"And I love you." He gives her a lingering kiss on the cheek before lying down beside her. "Good night, love."

* * *

 **Aww, so much romantic fluff! I couldn't help but throw it in.**

 **Special thanks to TheSilentShadows, Guest, and Mia78 for the reviews!**

 **If you haven't yet, please favorite, follow, and review!**

 **See you in two weeks! :)**


	26. Chapter 26

**Hi, everyone! Another two weeks have come and gone, so here's a new chapter! Enjoy!**

* * *

"Go!" Iris hisses in Bryn's ear, stuffing the drinking horn in her bag. She follows him and slips out of the bedroom, right as the court wizard reenters the room from the other door.

"Did she see us?"

She flings a glance over her shoulder, half-expecting the court wizard to be chasing after them. "No. Thank the Gods."

They straighten up, emerging into the main part of the Palace, both clad in their fine clothes.

"All that's left is the Stone of Barenziah," Iris tells him. "And—" She curses. "It's in Elisif's bedroom."

Bryn lets out a breath. "Vex wasn't wrong about this being a challenge for us."

Iris nudges him with her elbow. "Nothing we can't handle. Let's go." She creeps up the stairs and slips past the court and into the hallway.

"Her bedroom is the last one down this hall," Bryn whispers.

She nods, starting down the hallway. Once the two Nightingales reach the door, Iris puts an ear to it.

" _Laas,_ " she Whispers. Detecting no auras, she tries the handle, but finds it's locked. A wave of guilt washes over her as she remembers the Skeleton Key tucked away in an inside pocket. Swallowing thickly, she pulls out a lock pick and goes to work on the lock. It only takes her two tries for the door to swing open.

"I can't believe it." Brynjolf sneaks over to the bedside table, picking up a golden case above which a gleaming red gem floats.

"Is that it?" Iris joins him, peering at the unusual stone.

"Aye. It is." He carefully closes the case and adds it to Iris's bag. "That's everything."

"Now, we just have to get out."

The two thieves manage to make their way out of the Palace unnoticed.

"That was easier than I thought it was going to be," Iris comments as they stride down the cobblestone streets.

"I agree. It seemed easy enough. Makes me wonder why Vex had us go on this job. I'm sure the others would have been able to handle it."

"Maybe, it was an excuse for us to spend time together?" Iris laughs when he arches an eyebrow at her. "Right. Wishful thinking."

* * *

They reach the Winking Skeever, and Bryn begins to move toward their room when Iris catches his arm.

"Wait." Her violet eyes swim with playfulness. "We need to settle that drinking contest."

He chuckles. "Let's at least drop our things off first."

She obliges, following him to the room and tossing her bag and sword on the bed. She takes a few septims from her purse and tucks them into her pocket, not bothering to change out of the fancy attire.

"Alright. Ready to lose?" A smirk lights up her face as she challenges him.

"You're the one who should be preparing to lose, lass," he banters as they emerge into the tavern and take seats at the bar.

Iris orders two meads to start, passing her gold to a man in a black robe to give to the barkeep.

"Say, you look like someone who can hold their liquor," the man tells her as he passes the gold to the barkeep.

Elbowing Brynjolf, she replies, "Well, thank you. I've been trying to convince him all day."

The black-robed man laughs, holding out a hand. "I'm Sam."

She takes it, shaking his hand. "I'm Iris. This is Brynjolf."

Bryn nods at Sam, grinning. "The last thing she needs is more encouragement. She's been bragging all day about how she's going to beat me in a drinking contest."

Sam raises his dark eyebrows. "Drinking contest, eh? How about a friendly contest to win a staff?"

Iris tilts her head, immediately interested. "What kind of staff?"

"It's a magic staff, I can tell you that." Sam smirks. "So, how about it?"

Iris grins, looking to Bryn. "Do it with me," she urges him. "We'll settle both contests at once."

He chuckles, nodding. "You're on, lass."

She looks back to Sam, a smirk on her lips. "You don't stand a chance, Sam."

Sam laughs loudly. "We'll see about that." He draws a bottle out from his bag and pours three cups. "This is a special brew, very strong stuff." He hands the thieves cups. "Let's get started. I'll start round one. Down the hatch!" He tips his head back, downing it. "Your turn!"

"Here we go." Iris clinks her cup against Bryn's before downing it. She grimaces as it burns her throat, warming her insides.

"One down, my friend. One down." Sam refills their cups. "And another one for me." He easily downs another. "And how about you?"

She scoffs. "A second drink? Easy." She downs the drink, the burning sensation tickling her throat. She blinks quickly, realizing her slightly blurred vision.

"So says you." Sam grins, glancing at his empty cup. "I think I've hit my limit on these things. Tell you what. One more and you win the contest."

Iris turns to look at Bryn, feeling dizzy. He gives her an encouraging nod; she barely notices his unfocused eyes. "One more? No problem." She doesn't realize her words are slurred until she's already chugged her third drink. A puff of air leaves her lips as the room begins to spin, her head becoming cloudy.

"Wow. You've really done it." Sam watches her with wide eyes. "The staff is yours."

Iris thinks she thanks Sam, but she's not sure if she says it aloud.

Sam chuckles, looking at her. "You know, you're a fun person to drink with. I know this great little place where the wine flows like water. We should head there."

Iris suddenly feels her vision blurring, blackening at the edges. She stretches out a hand to steady herself, but she can't shake the sensation of falling.

"Hey, you don't look so good—"

* * *

"Wake up! Wake up!"

Iris groans, pressing her hands to her temples as she struggles to open her eyes.

"That's right! It's time to wake up, you drunken blasphemer!"

Her head pounding, Iris forces her eyes open, finding a very angry looking priestess glowering at her.

"What—" Confusion floods her mind when she finds herself lying on the ground. "Blasphemer?"

The priestess crosses her arms. "I see. So, you don't remember fondling the statuary, then?"

"What?" Iris blinks, sitting up and finding herself in the Temple of Dibella.

In Markarth.

"I'm guessing you also don't remember coming in her and blathering incoherently about marriage or a goat," the priestess goes on. "Which means you don't remember losing your temper and throwing trash all over the temple."

"I–I'm so sorry. I…don't even remember how I got here." She rubs her temples, straining against the pounding in her head.

The priestess eyes narrow. "Oh, I'd love to help you figure it out, but I'm so busy cleaning up the mess you made of our temple." Her voice drips with sarcasm. "Now, if you were to help tidy up and perhaps apologize afterwards, I might be able to help you."

Iris forces herself to her feet, stumbling. "W–Was there a man named Sam with me? Or Brynjolf?"

The priestess's face scrunches up in dislike. "Dibella teaches love and compassion, but that doesn't mean we're just going to tell you what you want to know and let you walk away from this. Pick up your mess, then apologize, and if we think you're sincere we'll consider lending you aid." And with that, the priestess turns on her heel, heading to the back of the temple.

"What in Oblivion?" Iris has never been so confused. Or hungover. Ever. And she's Dragonborn. Whatever Sam gave her must've been really fucking strong for her to feel like this now.

Her eyes rove about the temple, finding random pieces of trash lying around. Sighing, she goes to work picking everything up, her head throbbing painfully the entire time. She finds a Giant's Toe, a Hagraven feather, two bottles of wine, and a piece of parchment. Still perplexed, she unfolds the parchment and finds it's a note from Sam. It lists a bunch of random items needed to "repair the broken staff". Iris has no idea what this means. But she has nothing else to go on. So, she returns to the priestess, telling her that everything's been cleaned up.

"You were ranting when you got here, but most of it was slurred," the priestess informs her. "You did say something about Rorikstead. Maybe you should take a look there."

Iris thanks her and hurries on her way.

* * *

Hours later, Iris arrives in Rorikstead, feeling even worse than before. She wanders through the streets, trying to figure out what she did here, when a man comes running up to her, waving his fist in anger.

"You've got a lot of never showing yourself in this town again. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Iris winces at his loud voice shooting through her aching head. "I'm sorry? I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sorry's not good enough! Not while my Gleda is still out there, alone and afraid. You kidnapped her and sold her to that giant!"

"What? I did?" Iris rubs her eyes, her head aching from the bright sun. "Gods, that sounds really bad."

"You're damn right it does! I'll never breed another prize-winning goat like her. And don't you think of coming back to Rorikstead until you get her back from that giant!" the man shrieks.

She shakes her head, holding out her hands. "Okay, fine, but did I say anything about where I left a staff? Or what exactly happened with Gleda? I'm…a little fuzzy on that." _And everything else_ , she adds silently.

"You mentioned something like that…when you were running off with my goat! Tell you what, you bring back my goat, and maybe I'll give a damn about your staff." The man crosses his arms, clearly shutting up until he has his goat.

Groaning softly, Iris nods. "Fine. I'll get your damn goat."

She manages to find the stupid thing with a giant of all things. Once it's taken care of, Iris grabs hold of Gleda's leash and drags her back to Ennis.

"Okay, here's your goat. Now, will you help me?" Iris grumbles, shoving the rope into his hand.

He glowers at her, gently petting Gleda. "I still can't figure out why you stole her. You left a note explaining it, but half of it was gibberish and the rest. The only part I could make out was repaying Ysolda in Whiterun. Guess you could try there."

Iris nods, thanking him and heading to Whiterun.

 _Gods,_ she thinks, _this is the last time I'll ever participate in a drinking contest._

* * *

Iris tumbles into Whiterun and sets off to look for Ysolda. She catches her reflection in the water and cringes. Her hair is tangled in clumps, her eyes bloodshot, and her purple clothes are wrinkled. What in Oblivion happened last night? She's so caught up in her thoughts, she literally runs into Ysolda.

"There you are! Look, I've been patient, but you still owe me." Ysolda places her hands on her hips.

Iris sighs, rubbing her sore eyes. "Okay, how much do I owe you?" She decides to just give in instead of asking what happened.

But Ysolda shakes her head. "It's not about the money, really. I wouldn't have given you the wedding ring on credit if you weren't so obviously in love. But if there isn't going to be a wedding, the least you can do is give the ring back. That was one of my best pieces."

Iris's heart thumps in her chest. "W–What?" she squeaks. "Wedding? Ring? What—Do you know what I did with it?"

Ysolda exhales sharply, raising her eyebrows. "You went right out to give it to your fiancee! Don't you even remember where you left her? And after you told me that sweet story of how you met in Witchmist Grove! I can see why she left you."

Iris sighs in relief when she finds it had nothing to do with Bryn. She knows she loves him, but getting married? While drunk out of her mind? She's glad nothing happened between them. That she knows of at least.

"And what was that story about my, uh, fiancee?"

Ysolda watches her, dumbfounded. "How could you forget? It was the sweetest story I'd ever heard. You met at the full moon, under the biggest tree in Witchmist Grove, surrounded by fireflies. It was straight out of a storybook."

"Oh, Gods." She swipes a hand across her face. "Can you tell me where I said the wedding ceremony would be? Please."

The woman huffs, crossing her arms. "Well, I'm sure your bride-to-be will tell you when you get to where the ceremony will be. If she still wants to marry you when you tell her you can't afford the ring, of course."

"Okay, fine." Iris groans and sets off for, where else? Witchmist Grove.

* * *

By the time Iris makes it back to Whiterun with the ring, she swears that she'll never drink a drop of alcohol ever again. She had to kill the damn hagraven for the ring, but she really didn't feel all that bad doing it.

When she finds Ysolda by the market, she practically throws the ring at her.

"Here's the ring. Now, where was the ceremony going to be?" She's just desperate to figure this all out and take a much-needed nap.

"You said the ceremony was going to be in Morvunskar. You said your friend Sam was going to be your best man."

Her eyes light up at the mention of the strange man. "Thank you so much." After mentally preparing herself for whatever lies ahead, Iris sets back out onto the road toward Morvunskar.

* * *

"You have to be fucking kidding me!" Iris bursts out, using her Thu'um to kill the last mage prowling the ruins of Morvunskar. Panting, she stumbles down the hall, fighting back tears of frustration. She barely pays attention to where she's going until she finds herself surrounded in a thick mist, the sensation of flying fluttering in her stomach. Everything goes black for a moment before she finds herself in some sort of grove.

She moans, closing her eyes. "Why me?"

She forces herself to make her way down the path. Imagine her confusion when she reaches a clearing to find a long dining table sitting in the center, people holding flagons and eating mutton. And sitting at the table's head and standing up when he spots her? Sam.

"You're here! I was beginning to think you might not make it!" Sam bursts out in excitement.

"Where in Oblivion are we?" Iris asks, her brow furrowing. "And where's Bryn?"

Sam chuckles. "I thought you might not remember your first trip here. You had a big night. I think you've definitely earned the staff. And as for your friend, he's fine. He's sleeping in the tavern as we speak."

"I have all the things needed to repair the staff." Iris draws them out of her pocket.

"Oh, the Hagraven feather and so on?" Sam waves his hand. "You can throw all those out. You see…"

Iris gasps as a red light engulfs the man, a Dremora returning in his place. But not just any Dremora.

Sanguine.

"I really just needed something to encourage you to go out into the world and spread merriment. And you did just that! I haven't been so entertained in at least a hundred years." He gives her an amused smile.

"You can't be serious," Iris moans, rubbing her temples. "So, all of this was just a prank?"

Sanguine widens his eyes in mock offense. "Just a prank? Just a prank? The Daedric Lord of Debauchery does not deal in mere 'pranks'. This may have begun as a minor amusement, but it wasn't long before I realized you make a more interesting bearer of my not-quite-holy staff."

"Well, why did you choose me, then?"

He grins, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Let's be honest here, Liriiette. I don't always think my decisions through. But you…you're going places. Maybe a little influence from your old uncle Sanguine could help adjust your course a bit…"

"Thanks…I guess."

He beams at her, clapping her on the back. "My pleasure. But I think it's time for you to go." He shoves a beautiful staff into her hands and pushes her along the path. "No fun keeping you locked up in here with this." He stops pushing her to bow deeply. "The other Daedra were right about you, you know. You are a fun mortal to mess with."

"I'm not fully mortal," she reminds him.

"Ah, yes, that whole Dragonborn thing." He waves his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Well, in any case, it was an honor to meet you, little Liriiette."

Before she can reply, she finds herself engulfed in darkness. But she seems to blink and then find herself back in the Winking Skeever, standing in the middle of the tavern with the staff in her hands.

She stands there, unmoving, trying to figure out what just happened when a disheveled Brynjolf shuffles in, locking bloodshot eyes with her.

"There you are! What the fuck happened last night?"

She turns to face him, her expression slack. "I have no fucking idea."

* * *

 **I have to say this was one of my favorite quests in Skyrim. So funny! I had to include it in Iris's story.**

 **Anyway, special thanks to Guen for the review last week!**

 **Be sure to favorite, follow, and review to let me know what you think!**

 **We'll get back to the usual drama next update, but this was a fun break, I think!**

 **See you in two weeks! :)**


	27. Chapter 27

"Good work, you two," Delvin praises the two thieves as he examines the valuables in Vex's hands.

"Is that really a Stone of Barenziah?" Brynjolf asks the blonde.

She nods. "There are few people who know the truth of the Stones of Barenziah." She grins. "Meaning there are few who know that they actually exist."

Iris peers at the gemstone. "It really is beautiful. I can't imagine what the set must look like."

"Imagine what they'd look like on the original crown," Bryn tells her.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves now." Delvin chuckles. "We only have one. There are still twenty-four more stones to find."

"I'll certainly keep an eye out for them on my travels," Iris says. She stretches, suddenly feeling very tired. The journey back from Solitude was uneventful but long. And especially after her little…encounter with Sanguine, they were set back a day. Feeling the weight of the staff strapped to her back, she realizes they never found out what it actually does.

Vex dismisses them, and the two Nightingales retire to the cistern.

Walking side by side, they enter the cistern in silence, but Iris feels his eyes on her.

Peering sideways, she quirks an eyebrow at him. "What?"

He laughs softly, shaking his head. "I just still can't believe everything that happened."

She fights a smile, smacking his arm. "That stays between us. If I ever hear that you blabbed about it—"

"Aw, lass, but it's such a good story," he whines, grinning.

"I swear I will kill you if you ever tell anyone." She loses her battle against her smile and lets out a small laugh.

"That's very rash, even for you, love." He peers at the staff on her back. "What does that do, by the way?"

She shrugs, taking it in her hands. "No idea." She looks up at him, mischief written on her features. "Shall we find out?"

"Definitely."

She follows him to the training room, finding it empty. She aims the staff at a dummy, suddenly nervous.

"I'm kind of scared of what will happen," she admits. "Sanguine isn't the most conventional Daedra."

Bryn waves his hand. "Just do it. I'm sure it won't be too bad."

Frowning, Iris nods, refocusing her attention on the dummy. "Here goes…" She waves the staff from which a crimson light bursts. The light hovers above the floor for a split second before dissipating, leaving something in its place.

"Fuck!" the two thieves shout at the same time, jumping backwards.

In place of the light, a Dremora stands motionless, an enormous war axe on its back.

"Uh…" Iris peers up from behind the hay bale they've hidden behind. "It isn't doing anything," she whispers.

Bryn pops his head up and watches. "Why?"

"I don't know." Iris slowly gets to her feet, approaching the Dremora. "Uh…hi?"

It stares at her, unblinking, before looking around itself. "There are no hostiles here," it growls.

"No, uh, no, there aren't. I just…wanted to test out the staff…and, uh, see what it does," Iris sputters.

It turns its hardened gaze back on her. "I see. Next time, summon me when there is an actual fight, will you?"

Before Iris can respond, the crimson light returns and surrounds the Dremora. When it disappears, the Dremora is gone, as well.

Iris lets out a sigh of relief, running a hand through her hair. "Okay, then…" She steals a glance at Bryn, who still crouches behind the hay bale. He finally stands and walks over to where the Dremora stood, searching the ground. Saying nothing, he looks to her, meeting her eyes.

And they simultaneously burst into hysterical laughter.

Doubling over in laughter, Iris wipes at her eyes. "What the fuck, Sanguine?"

"I am never traveling with you again, Iris Liriiette," Brynjolf chokes out.

Iris can't reply for the laughter assaulting her throat. She sinks to the ground, her face in her hands, and feels him join her. All of the ridiculousness from their journey has finally reached a breaking point, and there's nothing left to do but laugh about it.

Unfortunately, Sapphire must have heard the noise because she suddenly appears in the room, her hands on her hips. "What in Oblivion is happening in here?"

Her confusion only makes the two thieves laugh harder.

Iris shakes her head, wiping tears from her faces. "You don't want to know."

Sapphire's brow furrows as she examines the empty room before turning. "I don't understand you two," she says before leaving.

"Are you sure I can't tell anyone about what happened to you?" Bryn asks, nudging Iris.

"You can't!" she tries to say with fierceness, but it doesn't help that she's still giggling.

He lets out a loud exhale, his hands on his stomach. "My abs hurt now."

"Mine, too." Iris smiles widely, for once not feeling the guilt wracking her core. She leans her head on his shoulder, taking his hand. "I don't understand why the Daedra all have this weird interest in me. Sanguine mentioned the others. Do you think they talk about me when they get together for a big Daedric Prince dinner?"

Bryn chuckles. "I guess so. Nocturnal had heard about you, too. Though, I can't say that catching the attention of the Daedra is a good thing." His thumb strokes the back of her palm. "Just look at what happened in Solitude."

"You're never going to let me forget about it, will you?"

He shakes his head. "Probably not."

A small grin graces her lips. "So, now what?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, is the ban lifted now? Can things go back to normal?"

He shrugs. "I don't know, love. I'll ask about it, but I doubt it."

She sighs. "See? More teasing." She shifts, closing her eyes. "Why do they hate us?"

She feels his chest rumble as he chuckles. "I wouldn't go that far. But it is strange. My guess is we'll have to play the waiting game."

Iris groans. "Patience? My weakness."

He rubs her shoulder, lightly kissing her head.

"I guess I better ask for another job, huh?" She opens her eyes, peering up at him.

"Thrynn and Vipir are out on jobs right now, so Vex and Delvin may not have anything for you."

She groans again. "Damn. I guess I can't keep putting the Dragonborn stuff off, can I? I was using the Guild as an excuse."

His eyebrow creases in worry. "What do you have to do?"

She waves her hand. "It's nothing."

 _Just retrieving an Elder Scroll. You know, everyday stuff._

She pushes herself to her feet, stretching. "Gods, I'm tired. I'll stop by before I leave."

He stands, too, touching her cheek. "If we didn't have this damned ban, I'd come with you on your Dragonborn duties. Assuming you'd let me, of course."

She raises her eyebrows at him.

"That's what I thought." He sighs, but grins. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

After making sure they're alone, Iris gives him a light kiss. "Bye."

* * *

Exhausted, Iris collapses into her bed, pulling the thick blankets over her head. She smiles softly, still elated from her trip with Bryn. Gods, she loves spending time with him. And ever since the stupid ban, she's seen less and less of him. Until now, hopefully. If anything, the ban has made her realize how much she needs him. She was so used to seeing and being with him 24/7; now, that she can't, it's like losing a bit of oxygen.

Exhaling, she rolls over, sinking more deeply into the soft bed. Bryn had surprised her. She never thought she could love; hell, she never went looking for love. It never even crossed her mind. And then, that red-haired bastard approached her in the market. She grins at the memory. She never would have imagined that she'd end up falling in love with him. She didn't even know she loved him until she thought they were about to die. Deep down, she always kind of knew, but kept it buried deep. They both knew they couldn't go through with it then, so she never really acknowledged it. Why put herself through that ache? And now? They confessed their love as they thought they were dying, and then survived. What are they supposed to do with that knowledge now? She would choose him over the Guild, hands down. She's lived without the Guild before; she could do it again if necessary. But him? It's been his whole life. It'd be like leaving his family. She doesn't blame him for thinking on it. It's a lot to ask of him, but she can't imagine loving anyone else. He's worth her waiting.

Though her body slackens in fatigue, her mind whirls. Frustrated, she turns onto her other side. She finds her train of thoughts beginning to venture toward darker topics. She strains to keep herself from going down that path, but finds the Dark Brotherhood assassin's words repeating in her mind. _In the southwest reaches of Skyrim, in the Pine Forest, you'll find the entrance to our Sanctuary._ Iris shakes her head, trying to rid the thought. But the assassin continues in her mind. _When questioned by the Black Door, answer with the correct passphrase: "Silence, my brother"._ She won't go. She can't go. She's the Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild. Not to mention she already has enough on her plate being the Dragonborn. She doesn't have the time.

Her eyes shoot open in surprise. It's not about the time, she realizes. She shouldn't want to join a guild of assassins! The very idea should appall her! She shouldn't want to join because it's an awful thing to be a part of. Not because she doesn't have enough time.

"Gods," she moans, running a hand over her eyes.

She rolls to her other side, trying to stifle the thoughts in her mind. It must work, because the next thing she knows, she's fast asleep.

* * *

 **Hmm...big things are coming!**

 **Thank you all for reading and sticking with my story! It means so much to me :)**

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 **Until next time!**


	28. Chapter 28

Yawning, Brynjolf shuffles into the Flagon, taking his usual seat and pulling one of the ledgers towards him.

"Thanks, Vekel," he thanks the barkeep when he sets a tankard in front of him.

Delvin slides into the seat across from him. "Morning."

"Morning, Delvin." As Brynjolf studies the ledger, he frowns. "Is this from this month?"

Delvin nods, sighing. "Things still aren't looking up."

His frown deepening, Brynjolf thinks about Iris. She returned the Key. So, why is the Guild practically out of money? Pushing the book away, he decides to ask her about it when she comes down.

"Any jobs?" he asks Delvin instead.

"Nothing really. We had two but Thrynn and Vipir are on them right now." Delvin fixes his gaze on something behind the Nord. "Good morning."

Brynjolf turns in his seat to find Iris approaching their table, a smile on her face.

"Morning." She gives him a sly wink as she takes a seat.

Delvin asks her details about the Solitude job, and Brynjolf uses her distraction to watch her. A small frown forms on his face as he notices faint circles under her eyes. Her smile almost looks forced, strained, her beautiful eyes not shining as they normally do. He supposes it's from her grief. She found out about Ianthe not too long ago. Ianthe was practically her mother, she had told him. He can't imagine losing his. Though he's somewhat estranged from his family, he can't imagine waking up one day and finding they no longer inhabit the living world.

Iris must feel his eyes because she turns from Delvin to give him a questioning gaze.

"So, where are you heading off to?" he asks, trying to hide his concern for her.

She arches an eyebrow, grinning crookedly. "If I tell you, does that mean you'll try to follow?"

He shakes his head, gesturing at Delvin. "Not unless I want to be kicked out of the Guild."

Iris's smile disappears as she nods. "Oh. Right. Uh, I'm going to…Dawnstar…kind of."

"Kind of?" He quirks an eyebrow.

She waves her hand. "It's too long of a story."

"That's a long walk," Delvin comments. "How long will you be gone?"

She shrugs. "I'm…not sure." She glances at Brynjolf, and he remembers her words from last night. Dragonborn business.

"Oh, I almost forgot." Brynjolf snaps his fingers as if just remembering something. "I've been meaning to show you…" He stands up, trailing off.

"Show me what?" Iris asks.

"Follow me." He leads her into the cistern and up to the Guildmaster's desk.

"What is it?" she asks again, folding her arms.

He turns, a grin on his face. "Nothing. Just didn't want Delvin catching onto your secret."

Her face breaks into a wide smile. "Gods, Bryn. You're the best."

"Where are you really going?"

She sighs, strain in her eyes. "It's called the Tower of Mzark. It's kind of by Dawnstar."

"What are you doing there?"

She shakes her head, lowering her eyes. "It's nothing."

"Iris." He watches the conflict on her delicate face as she struggles to keep her intentions a secret.

"Don't worry about it, Bryn." She waves her hand, still not meeting his gaze. "But I don't know how long I'll be gone." Her shoulders slump in defeat ever so slightly, but he notices.

"Will it be dangerous?" He has to ask.

She finally meets his eyes, her eyebrows furrowed. "Don't worry about it," she repeats.

"Iris, you know I can't go after you anyway. I'm forced to stay out of it unless I want out of the Guild. You can tell me."

"You won't believe me."

He crosses his arms, his mouth twitching into a smile. "Try me." He didn't believe in the Nightingales, the Dragonborn, or the Stones of Barenziah. And he's seen each of them with his own eyes. He'll believe anything now.

She rakes a hand through her tousled hair, exhaling. "I have to…find something." She glances around to make sure no one is paying attention. "Something…almost legendary."

"What?"

She raises her eyes, meeting his evenly. "Um, an Elder Scroll…"

He freezes in disbelief, watching as she fidgets nervously.

"An Elder Scroll. By the Nine…" Shaking his head, he places his hands on her shoulders. "Why do you need an Elder Scroll?"

She shrugs. "I need it to learn a Thu'um that will defeat Alduin."

He nods slowly. "Okay. And this…Elder Scroll is in the Tower of Mzark?"

"Yeah."

"So…how long will you be gone?"

"I have no idea."

He says nothing, watching her, still unable to believe that his Iris has such a responsibility upon her small shoulders. "Promise me you'll stay safe."

"I promise." But he sees hesitation reflected in her violet orbs.

Sighing softly, he drops his hands, walking around to behind the desk. "Oh, I meant to ask…"

She leans on the side of the desk, facing him.

"Did you ever return the Key?"

She frowns. "The Skeleton Key?"

A short chuckle falls from his lips. "Aye. That's the only Key I remember speaking with you about."

She laughs, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, I did it ages ago. Remember? I told you."

"Did you?" He doesn't remember. "My memory isn't what it used to be."

Another laugh spills from her mouth. "Gods, Bryn. But yeah, you don't have to bug me about it anymore."

"Thank the Divines. I thought you'd never return it, and we'd have bad luck forever." He watches her closely.

"Yeah…" She laughs again, but to Brynjolf it sounds a bit more forced. Or is it just his imagination?

"Be safe, love."

Her hand brushes his cheek, her eyes cloudy. "I will be."

"You're in luck, Iris." Delvin approaches the two thieves. "I have a job for you. In Falkreath. Can you do it on the way to Dawnstar?"

Iris drops her hand, facing the older thief. "That's a bit out of the way. What is it?"

"Just a simple numbers job."

She thinks for a moment before nodding. "Okay. I'll send a courier when I finish."

"You're an angel, Liriiette."

She waves her hand, smiling slightly. "Yeah, yeah." She turns back to Brynjolf. "Guess I should go now then, huh?"

"Guess so. I'll walk you up." He takes her hand.

Iris stays silent as they climb up the ladder and linger in the stone structure.

"Everything okay?" he asks, lightly brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

"Yeah," she breathes.

He smiles softly. "You're not as good of a liar as you used to be, love."

She lifts her eyes, meeting his. "Just with you," she murmurs.

Brynjolf studies her features, expecting to see sadness flooding her eyes. But instead he sees something else. Not sadness, but…something else he can't put his finger on. The dark circles under her hollow eyes and worry lines in her forehead cause a flicker of confusion to flash through his mind.

"I'll miss you." She interrupts his thoughts and embraces him.

He buries his nose in her hair, breathing her in. "Promise me you'll come back in one piece, love."

He feels her nod. Pulling away, she lightly kisses his lips. "I love you."

"And I you." He shoves a smile on his face, watching her walk away. She gives him one last forlorn glance over her shoulder, and it hits him like lightning.

Grief is not the emotion staining her face and marring her features. He wants to slap himself for being so stupid. If Iris is mourning, it doesn't show on her face. But something else does. Not grief, no.

Guilt.

* * *

 **Oooh! What is she feeling guilty about? Hmm...** **Poor Bryn has no idea what's going on. Leave me a review telling me what you think will happen next! :)**

 **Thank you for reading, and as always, favorite, follow, and review! :)**


	29. Chapter 29

Yawning, Iris rubs at her eyes, guilt gnawing at her insides as she rides down the road. How is that Bryn can see she's lying but not know what she's lying about? He wholeheartedly believes that Ianthe is dead and that Iris is in mourning. It's something she'd never lie about. And that's why he believes her. And that's why her stomach churns, threatening to empty its contents with every clack of the horse's hooves.

But she forces herself to ride on. Falkreath and then the Tower of Mzark. Then, she'll be one step closer to fulfilling her destiny.

She sighs, shaking her head. What started as a simple lie to keep him from finding out about the Dark Brotherhood transformed into a series of lies that she can't stop telling. Maybe some time away will be good. It will give her a chance to put the lies from her mind and focus on the bigger picture.

* * *

"Thank you." Iris pays the stableboy and leaves the stables, heading to the city gates.

She dons her Nightingale hood, her eyes darting around, looking for the inn.

Last time she was here, she met Barbas the dog, and he led her to Clavicus Vile. She thinks of the Masque buried at the bottom of her chest in Honeyside. Probably not what Clavicus Vile intended her to do with it. She rids her head of the thoughts and finally finds the inn. Ducking inside, she easily makes it to the back room without being seen. The ledger lies on a lone table in the room, practically begging her to change the numbers. After making sure she is still unseen, she sets to work, her hand dancing around the page as she changes the numbers.

"Perfect," she mutters to herself, backing away from the book. _That was easy,_ she thinks as she escapes back to the street, removing her hood. Now, to the Tower.

 _In the southwest reaches of Skyrim, in the Pine Forest, you'll find the entrance to our Sanctuary._

Iris flinches as the assassin's words assault her mind. The Pine Forest. Falkreath lies just outside of the Pine Forest. The Sanctuary must be close.

She wants to hit herself for her traitorous thoughts. She can't be thinking of joining. Maybe…maybe she'll just look for the Sanctuary. She doesn't have to go in, right? She'll just look.

Leaving her horse at the stable, she wanders down the road. _Just beneath the road,_ the assassin had said.

Iris continues on, her eyes peeled. She's about to give up when she spots a small clearing. Her brow furrows as she brushes aside a tree limb, finding a clearing complete with a small pond. Twigs and leaves crunch beneath her boots as she climbs down the hill and into the clearing. Her breath materializes in the brisk air with her exhale. Standing in the center of the clearing, she turns, looking for the Sanctuary.

A hard lump blocks her throat when she finds a narrow hole in the side of a cliff. And there…a Black Door. Iris licks her lips, taking a tentative step toward it. A skull decorates the door, a crimson glow emanating from behind it. Her hand stretches out, seemingly of its own accord, and her fingers lightly brush the rough stone.

And it speaks.

"What is the music of life?" a raspy voice breathes.

Gasping, Iris's hand jerks back, her mouth open. She knows the answer. The assassin told her the answer. But she should just leave now, right? She has no interest in joining. She could never be an assassin, a murderer.

So, she turns on her heel and walks away. But she only makes it three steps before turning back, watching the Door. What if she just…looked inside? This is her one chance to see the inside of a Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. Maybe she'll just take a peek. Her feet move her toward the Door again, the Door which still waits for her answer.

 _Lass, what are you doing?_ Iris hears Bryn's voice in her head.

She's no murderer. She's not cut out to be an assassin. She couldn't stomach the work. Stealing is one thing. Killing is another. But…killing Grelod felt good. It felt good to end her sorry existence, the evil bitch. If she was contracted to kill nasty people like Grelod, Iris wouldn't have a problem with it. What if she joined and only killed those who deserved it? But then, who is she to decide who deserves to live or die?

Gods, but she's just so curious.

"Silence, my brother." The words burst from her lips before she can stop them.

The Door seems to chuckle lowly before hissing, "Welcome home."

Iris turns back around and finds the Door opening for her.

She shouldn't go in.

But her foot takes a step.

This isn't her. She isn't a murderer.

But her hand pushes the Door open further.

What would the Guild say? What would Bryn say? She can't do this to them.

But her head ducks as her foot breaks the threshold.

No one will have to know. This will be her secret. No one will know.

And she makes her way down the stony stairs.

* * *

Brynjolf curses under his breath, scratching the back of his neck with the end of his quill.

"Something on your mind?" Delvin slides into the seat across from him.

Growling angrily, Brynjolf jabs a finger to the numbers in the ledger. "These can't be right. We've had an increase in jobs. So, why are our numbers still shit?"

"Let me see." Delvin grabs the book and slides toward him.

Slumping down in his seat, Brynjolf runs his hands over his face, groaning.

"I don't understand…" Delvin murmurs. "I thought we got five hundred from that Winterhold job."

"Aye, we were supposed to but somehow we only received a fourth of the payment!" Brynjolf stands, leaning over the book. "And here, we were supposed to get sixty percent of the fenced goods and only received fourteen. I don't know where it's all going! Mercer isn't here anymore stealing from our Vault, so where in Oblivion is it all going?"

"Fuck. I thought our bad luck was supposed to end once Iris returned that Nightingale thing," Delvin says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"The Skeleton Key. And I know. It was supposed to." Brynjolf sighs, crossing his arms.

"Maybe…it takes a while for it to go into effect?" Delvin tries.

"I don't know. Maybe." Brynjolf shakes his head. "I'm going to talk to Karliah about this. I'll let you know what she says."

Brynjolf storms out of the Flagon and up the ladder, his mind whirling. Iris returned the Key. Nocturnal should be in their favor now. So, why isn't she? Unless…

No. He trusts Iris with his life. She'd never lie about something like this. She has no reason to. He'll talk to Karliah. Perhaps she'll get this straightened out.

* * *

 **Sorry that this chapter was so short! Maybe I'll post another next week to make up for it...**

 **What is Iris doing?! What are your thoughts about her potentially joining the Dark Brotherhood? And how do you** **think Bryn would react if he found out?**

 **Thank you all for reading! Please favorite, follow, and review! :)**


	30. Chapter 30

**Hi, everyone! I'm so sorry about posting during the normal time-especially after teasing about posting early! This past week was absolutely INSANE, and I barely had time to breathe! But enough excuses! Here's Chapter 30!**

* * *

 _This was a mistake,_ Iris thinks as she creeps down the stone stairs, clutching her new armor in her hands. She blinks against the warm lighting as she descends into a cavern-like room, complete with a small pool of water. A group of assassins stand in a circle, all wearing the same armor Astrid had just given her.

"Oh Babette, but you are so wicked," an older woman chuckles.

Iris stops just behind the group, shuffling her feet.

"What about you, Festus?" a Redguard man asks. "How did that last contract turn out?"

"Oh, yes, please, old man," a large, bearded Nord says. "Regale us with your tales of wizardry."

"Ah, the young and stupid." An old man in robes, Festus, scoffs. "Always mocking the experienced and brilliant. My contract when very well, I'll have you know. Tried a new spell. Little something I've been working on in my spare time. Came this close to turning that priest inside out. Damned messy."

Iris's stomach churns. What was she thinking? She doesn't belong with these…psychopaths.

"And what of your latest, Arnbjorn? Something about a Khajiit? Merchant, was it?" the older woman asks the Nord.

"Oh, a big doggy chasing a little kitty! How adorable!" Iris's heart stops when she finds the source of the high-pitched voice. A little girl. A little girl no older than ten.

"I am not adorable, it was not funny, and he wasn't a merchant," Arnbjorn retorts. "He was a Khajiit monk, a master of the Whispering Fang style. But now, he's dead. And I have a new loincloth."

The assassins erupt into raucous laughter at his words, and the sinking feeling in Iris's stomach intensifies when Arnbjorn spots her.

"Oh, who's this?"

Iris's lips part silently as each pair of eyes finds hers.

"You must be the contract stealer," an Argonian muses. "What's your name?"

"I'm Iris." She forces herself to swallow her fear.

 _This is just another disguise_ , she thinks. _Just pretend this is for a job._

She shoves a smile on her face and takes a few steps closer to the group.

"Really? You're the one who killed Grelod?" Arnbjorn asks, arching his eyebrows before huffing. "You don't look like much."

Iris scoffs. "I know who'll be eating their words soon enough."

He scowls at her as the other laugh softly, but she doesn't break eye contact.

"So, Iris, what do you think of your potential new home?" the older woman asks.

Iris furrows her brow. "Potential?"

"We don't know if you'll last. Every new recruit is sort of up in the air until they prove themselves," the Redguard says.

"Well, it'd be more homey if I knew your names." The Breton ignores his words.

"I'm Nazir," the Reguard introduces himself.

"Gabriella," the older woman says.

"Veezara," the Argonian bows his head.

But Iris doesn't catch the rest of their names because a sudden chanting takes up space in her head. Gasping softly, she looks around herself, trying to find the source. She feels the pull on her chest, urging her forward, and her eyes widen when she finds it. A Word Wall. Right in the center of the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. All other sounds muffle as she moves toward it, the Thu'um already glowing and searing into her soul. The chanting grows louder, echoing in her ears as she absorbs the new Word, feels it enter her very being, the new Word on her tongue.

" _Krii_ ," she Whispers as the chanting dissipates.

"Well, looks like our new recruit is more than what meets the eye."

She flinches and whirls around, remembering the crowd of assassins.

"I'm—I'm sorry," she sputters.

Most of them shrug it off and walk off. But one pair of eyes locks with hers, as if to say he knows her secret.

She looks away, moving away from the Word Wall.

"Dragonborn, huh?" Veezara catches up with her.

"So much for keeping it a secret," Iris mutters.

The Argonian chuckles warmly. "Makes no difference whether you're the Dragonborn or not. If you're a good assassin, that's what matters."

Iris bites her lip, feeling uncomfortable. "How long have you been in the Dark Brotherhood?"

"I have been a part of the Dark Brotherhood from the day I first hatched. I am a Shadowscale, you see. Born under the sign of the Shadow."

"A Shadowscale?"

Veezara nods. "I was an assassin in service to the King of Black Marsh, trained by the Dark Brotherhood since the day of my hatching." He sighs. "But that was a lifetime ago. Today, I am the last of my kind. My order is extinct."

"Oh…I'm sorry." Iris frowns.

He waves his hand. "I happily serve Astrid now. After all, I am still a trained killer, and once again have been given purpose. Life is good." He chuckles lightly.

Iris forces a smile. "Do you know where Nazir is? I'm supposed to talk to him about some contracts."

Veezara directs her to the dining area where she finds the Redguard.

Nazir tells her about three different targets, each a seemingly 'easy' mark to get her warmed up. She gulps down the lump in her throat and takes the contracts from him. She makes to move past him to leave, but he catches her arm.

"Listen, I have no intention of getting invested in someone who may be dead tomorrow."

She rolls her eyes, jerking her arm out of the Redguard's grip. "We'll see about that."

And she ascends the stairs back out into the wilderness.

* * *

Twigs crack under his feet as Brynjolf reaches the Standing Stone and ducks into the Sanctuary. His brow creases with worry as he makes his way through the cavernous structure, reaching the bridge.

"Karliah?" his voice echoes.

Nothing but silence answers his call. Frowning, he wanders into the stone hallways, looking for the Dunmer.

After searching the entire Sanctuary, he has no choice but to accept that she is not there.

Cursing under his breath, he sinks onto one of the beds, rubbing his weary eyes. Iris had to have returned the Key. She told him that she did it a while ago, but he can't seem to remember her telling him about it. Unless, she never did. Unless, she never returned the Key. But why in Oblivion would Iris blatantly harm the Guild by not returning it? She would never do that. But…Brynjolf sighs, remembering the guilt in her eyes, the absence of grief. What if she did lie about it? What if she still has the Key?

Frustrated, he groans, collapsing onto the soft mattress. He needs to confront her about it, but who knows when she'll return from the Tower of Mzark? She said it may take a while and that she didn't know when she'd be back. He rolls onto his side, closing his eyes. He hopes he's wrong about Iris. Gods, he hopes he's wrong.

Iris bites her thumbnail, twirling the quill in her hand and staring at the blank parchment resting upon a book in her lap. She hasn't written Ianthe since she arrived in Skyrim. How is she supposed to start? A wave of homesickness washes over her, leaving her with a forlorn weight in her gut. Shifting closer to the crackling fire, she dips her quill in ink and begins to write to the priestess.

 _Dearest Ianthe,_

 _I hope all is well in the Temple. I am sorry that it has taken me this long to write. I hope you haven't been too worried. Skyrim…isn't what I thought. It's not all bad, though I've certainly face many challenges here. I've sort of gotten tangled up in something much bigger than myself. But do not worry, dear Ianthe. I will cope as I always do._

 _I've made a few friends here, some closer than others, though it's difficult to keep them. There is one in particular I am most worried about. We've become very close, and I tell him almost everything. But it's the 'almost' that worries me. He tells me all his secrets, but I can't bear to do the same. I'm not sure why. He is my best friend. Then again, it's strange to have a best friend that isn't you._

 _I miss you so much that it aches my bones. I long to visit soon, but because of my duties, I do not think it will be anytime soon. Please keep yourself safe and healthy—be sure to keep taking your tonic every night. I know how much you conveniently forget. I can hear you now. Yes, I know you can take care of yourself and that you don't need me to function. But sometimes, it feels as though I need you. Especially now. I miss you very much and pray that all is well. Send my love to the others, and I will visit when I can._

 _All my love,_

 _Iris_

She sets down the quill, quickly reading over the letter. There's so much more she wants to tell Ianthe, but it can't be written down. She wants to ask about love, trust, guilt, but she can't risk writing any of it down for fear of it being intercepted. After waiting for the ink to dry, Iris carefully folds the letter, addressing it to Ianthe and stowing it in her bag. A sigh leaves her lips as she settles back into her bedroll, scooting closer to the fire. She closes her burning eyes, the black tinged red behind her lids, tinted by the fire, and shivers in the cold.

She's supposed to arrive at the Tower of Mzark tomorrow. She's supposed to find the Elder Scroll and learn the Thu'um to defeat Alduin. She's going to be one step closer to fulfilling her destiny. She should be ecstatic, a little scared, but excited. So, why does she feel so unmotivated to go? Her thoughts wander to the three contracts. Beitild lives in Dawnstar. The Tower of Mzark is close to Dawnstar. What if she made a little pitstop?

An unbidden sob escapes her lips. What is happening to her? She isn't a killer. She isn't an assassin. And here she is, considering killing one of the targets on her way to fulfill her Dragonborn destiny. Bile rises in her throat; she's disgusted with herself for thinking such things. Her eyes flit to the red and black armor haphazardly stuffed in her bag. She joined the Dark Brotherhood yet she still can't understand why. It's like two parts of her are fighting, battling with each other. One side begs her not to kill, the other says why not? And, Gods, what would Bryn say if he knew? The sting of tears pierce her eyes at the thought. He would hate her. Disown her. Leave her. Just like her parents.

 _But_ , a small voice says, _are you keeping yourself from doing it because of him? Or you?_

She shakes her head, burying her face into her pillow. She can't afford to think these thoughts. Not now. Not when she's so close to continuing on her Dragonborn journey.

A shuddering exhale blows past her lips as she forces her eyes closed. For now, she just needs to sleep.

* * *

An elongated howl permeates Iris's subconscious as she rouses. Bleary-eyed, she sits up in her makeshift tent, blinking against the bright snow as the howl sounds again.

Cursing under her breath, she forces herself to her feet, brandishing her sword and hunting for the wolf. Shivering in the cold, Iris turns in a slow circle, her eyes straining to adjust to the blinding snow. Just when she begins to think the wolf has left, a growl rumbles behind her. She whirls around, but the wolf is faster. It leaps on her from behind. Its teeth sink into her sword arm. She cries out in pain and tries to swat the wolf away, but its teeth only tighten its grip in her skin. Twisting her other arm around, she blasts flames in the wolf's face. It cries out, letting go of her arm. With a pained gasp, Iris raises her sword and impales the beast in one quick stroke. She immediately straightens up, her eyes darting around to see if more come running. When nothing meets her gaze but softly falling snow, she drops her sword, nursing her arm. Crimson blood drips onto the fresh snow as she examines the wound. She's relieved to find it isn't too bad, just a shallow bite wound. She shuffles back to the tent, rummaging in her bag for a roll of bandages. After cleaning and wrapping her arm, she packs up the rest of her things and heads out.

And when she reaches the fork in the road, right taking her to the Tower of Mzark and left taking her to the target in Dawnstar…

She goes left.

* * *

 **What do you guys think of the story so far? It's definitely taken a turn compared to where we started! What do you think will happen next? And how do you think Iris and Bryn's relationship will fare with all these lies? Let me know in the reviews!**

 **As always, thank you so so much for reading, and please favorite, follow, and review! :)**


	31. Chapter 31

_Two Weeks Later_

"And then I need you to break into the palace and erase his name from the register, change it to whatever you like. Do you think you can do that?"

Brynjolf folds his arms, arching an eyebrow at Olfrid Battle-Born. "Of course, I can. Why hire us if we weren't capable?"

Olfrid nods tersely. "Good. Because if you get caught, we never spoke."

The red-haired thief scoffs. "I never get caught."

Walking away from Olfrid, he heads to Dragonsreach, preparing himself for the task at hand. Normally, he'd send Iris on jobs like these. So, in her absence, he goes instead. He doesn't mind it. He missed being out on jobs. He hasn't really left the Flagon since he and Iris swept the Blue Palace, and he was quickly becoming bored with working with the business ledgers all the time. Staring at numbers in the dim light of the cistern doesn't compare to high-speed pursuits, a valuable object in hand. He misses the adrenaline rush, the excitement of stealing.

But most of all, he misses Iris. She's been gone for two weeks now, but somehow he's managed to keep his worry under check. She had told him it would take a while, and there's no use worrying about something he can't help. So, he's chosen to go on jobs normally given to her in an attempt to distract himself.

After heaving a deep breath, he sidles up the hill to Dragonsreach, keeping low and unseen in the moonlight. He easily slips into the palace, dodging the guards and nobles milling about the vast hall. Once he ascends the stairs, he knows, he won't be able to stay unseen. Luckily, he still has the clothes from the Blue Palace job and thought to wear them in place of his armor. Hiding in plain sight. He ascends the stairs, instantly straightening up and walking leisurely, his hands in his pockets. He inclines his head in greeting to the other nobles who think nothing of him. His eyes carefully roam about the space, spotting the door through which he needs to go. To the Jarl's quarters. He lets his facial expression droop, giving his features a look of boredom as he wanders toward the door. No one pays him any attention. He casually glances over his shoulders, making sure no one is in sight before deftly opening the door and slipping through.

Once inside, he drops his act, going back into stealth mode. Crouching down, he sneaks up the staircase, coming face to face with a locked door. His nimble fingers easily pick the lock, and he hurries inside. The letter lays on the desk, and Brynjolf grabs it, stuffing it into his pocket.

 _Now the register_ , he thinks as he descends the stairs, heading to the other door. His breath hitches in his throat when a guard appears seemingly out of nowhere. He instantly backs up against the wall, staying low as the guard passes. Once he's sure he's in the clear, he glides to the other room and shuts the door behind him. A long exhale leaves his lips as his heart tries to slow down. The register rests upon a wooden table, a quill and ink next to it. Crouching over the register, Brynjolf carefully writes in a random name, chuckling softly to himself.

 _Poor Arn,_ he thinks, grinning at his handwriting spelling out the name "Torksten Runhide". Olfrid never said it had to be a good name.

Job completed, Brynjolf sets down the quill and focuses on slipping out.

He leaves just as easily as he had entered. His hands in his pockets, he lazily descends the stairs back from the Cloud District, heading to Olfrid to tell him the good news. Brynjolf reaches the Battle-Born house and tells Olfrid the job is done.

"By the Gods, you actually did it." Olfrid smiles widely. "You have my thanks and my full-fledged support, as well as that of the other Battle-Borns."

"Thank you, Olfrid." Brynjolf grins, accepting an enchanted ring as a reward. "I look forward to doing more…business with you."

Olfrid nods fervently before reentering his home.

Feeling pleased with himself, Brynjolf turns, intending to hit the road and head back to the Guild.

That is, until a guard stops him.

* * *

"Honored guests, are you all enjoying yourselves? Please, eat, drink, and make merry on this most happy of days."

Iris smothers her scoff with her hand as she waits, crouched behind the old gargoyle. Peering down, she watches as the new bride, Vittoria Vici, addresses the crowd. All she has to do is push the statue. It will be easy. As if the Gods had placed it there to be used for this very purpose. But Iris waits. She wants to wait for the perfect moment.

"In this courtyard, there are no Stormcloaks. There are no Imperials. There are only people come to celebrate a union of two souls. So make merry!" Vittoria continues.

Iris pulls her hood down lower and adjusts the face mask, ready to make a run for it after she pushes the statue.

"You have all helped make this a truly extraordinary wedding. All my dreams have come true. So thank you. Thank you all."

 _It's time_ , Iris thinks as she watches Vittoria take a step backward.

"Here goes nothing." Without hesitation, Iris pushes the statue as hard as she can. It instantly crumbles under the pressure, crumbs of stone falling at Iris's feet. As if in slow-motion, the statue plummets down, down onto the balcony, and collides perfectly with the top of Vittoria's head. She falls to the ground under the weight, blood streaming from the wound, dead.

Chaos ensues.

"Look! Up there! It's a Dark Brotherhood assassin!"

Iris curses loudly at being spotted and dashes to the stairs. She has to get out of here. Now. Gripping her bow in both hands, she hurries down the steps, intending to run all the way out of the city. But she crashes into someone instead. Her fingers instinctively grab an arrow and load it onto her quiver before she recognizes him.

"Veezara? What in Oblivion are you doing here?" She gapes at the Argonian.

"Astrid ordered me to keep an eye on you. Figured you could use a hand when the chaos erupted." He smiles, showing his pointed teeth. "I'll try and hold them off as best I can. You get back to the Sanctuary!"

"Wait, I can help—"

"No, we'll meet back up at the Sanctuary! I'll be fine." When Iris doesn't move, he prods her forward. "Go!"

Iris turns and sprints out of the reception, dodging arrows and swinging swords until she makes it to the bridge. She hesitates for a brief second, feeling awful for leaving Veezara there. But she has to follow orders. So, she ducks under the bridge and dashes down the spiral stairs.

She doesn't stop running until she's halfway to the Sanctuary.

"It's done, Astrid," Iris tells the leader, unable to keep a smile off her face.

She's surprised when the blonde returns it. "Wonderful. With Vici's murder, you've started us down a path the Dark Brotherhood hasn't traveled in centuries. The assassination of an Emperor. And now, your reward."

Iris accepts a scroll from Astrid, furrowing her brow when she unrolls it. "What is it?"

"It's a unique spell to summon a legend of the Dark Brotherhood. His soul serves us now in death, as his body once did in life."

Iris peers at the mysterious words, muttering them to herself.

"Now, then. Time to proceed to the next stage of the plan," Astrid continues. She tells Iris to speak with Gabriella and sends her on her way. "Oh, and Iris?"

Iris stops, turning to meet her eyes. "Yes?"

"Be sure to ask Delvin Mallory about that amulet. Soon."

Iris's blood runs cold at the thought. "Oh, uh, yes. I will." She shifts to move, but finds herself locked in Astrid's steady gaze.

"You've been avoiding going to speak with him," the assassin says. "Why?"

Iris shakes her head, her eyes going to stare at her boots. "It's nothing."

But Astrid strides closer, placing a reassuring hand on the Breton's arm. "You can tell me. We're Family."

Iris's mouth twitches into a small smile at the notion. "I know. I guess…I just don't want to face them."

"Who?"

Iris sighs. "I'm part of the Thieves Guild. I'm supposed to be their Guildmaster, actually. But…I haven't been back there in so long. They probably think I've abandoned them. And—" She stops, her chest tightening at the thought of her (former?) best friend.

"Guildmaster?" Astrid raises her eyebrows. " _And_ the Listener? _And_ the Dragonborn? You have a lot of titles, dear."

A scoff leaves the thief's lips. "Don't I know it."

"Listen, Iris." Astrid's hands rest on Iris's shoulders. "Don't let it worry you. You're good at lying. Tell them that you and the Dark Brotherhood have a casual relationship. Delvin won't think anything of it. He still conducts business with us, after all."

"It's not Delvin I'm worried about," Iris mutters.

"Tell him to keep it a secret. He's a trustworthy man, for a thief. He'll honor your wishes."

"Alright." Iris raises her violet eyes to Astrid's blue. "Thank you, Astrid."

The assassin smiles warmly as she drops her hands. "Anytime. Now, go on and talk to Gabriella."

Iris gives her a nod before walking into the Sanctuary.

"Listener!"

"Hi, Cicero." She smiles at the jester.

"Cicero heard of the wedding. Ooh, that poor, poor bride!" Cicero lets out a high-pitched laugh.

Laughing softly, Iris touches his shoulder. "You should've tagged along."

He beams at her. "Oh, yes. I would love to serve the great Listener."

"Maybe I'll have you come with me sometime." She smiles. "But for now, I have to go talk with Gabriella."

"Oh, yes. About the Emperor, hmm?"

Iris nods. "I'll see you later."

Iris finds Gabriella hunched over her alchemy table, as usual, and the older assassin gives her a new contract.

"Wait, so I have to stalk Commander Maro's son and then kill him when he's in town?" Iris tries to clarify.

"Is that a problem?" Gabriella arches an eyebrow.

Iris shakes her head quickly. "No, I just…I feel kind of bad for Commander Maro, I guess. He'll be losing his only son."

The older woman's eyebrows furrow exponentially. "There's no room for empathy in this line of work, girl. You must know that."

"I…I know." Iris bows her head. "I'll get it done."

"Good."

At Gabriella's terse dismissal, Iris sets out of the Sanctuary, running into Veezara on the way.

"Veezara!" she greets him.

"Ah, you're back!"

"How was the fight? I'm glad you came back in one piece. I was worried," she admits.

Veezara lets out a throaty laugh. "It's nice of you to worry, but you didn't have to. It was actually pretty fun. I'm sure people won't be forgetting that wedding anytime soon, huh?"

"That's awful," she insists, but can't stop a small chuckle form leaving her mouth. "I had to kill a bride on her wedding day." She doesn't mean to let her sullenness show.

The Argonian shakes his head.

"What?"

"You're the nicest assassin I've ever met, that's for sure."

She drops her eyes, trying to smother the usual guilt eating away at her heart.

"So, you talk to your thief yet? Let him know you're alive and everything?" Veezara asks softly.

Iris sighs, examining the tops of her boots.

"I'm guessing that's a no."

"I have to go into the Guild to ask about Motierre's amulet," she mutters.

"Do you think he'll be there?"

She shrugs. "I don't know."

"Listen, Iris, you need to talk to him. He's probably out of his mind with worry," he urges her.

"I know…I just…" A long exhale leaves her lips. "If I talk with him, he'll ask where I've been, and I don't want him to know about all of this," she gestures to the Sanctuary, "but I don't want to lie to him."

"So, you're just going to keep avoiding him forever?"

Iris says nothing, biting her lip.

"I'm not saying it will be an easy conversation, but you need to set things straight with him. If you truly feel the way you do about him, you need to tell him the truth." He touches her shoulder.

"I know. I'll…I'll try." She finally raises her eyes, giving the Argonian a grateful smile. "Thank you. Sometimes I feel as though you're my only true friend anymore."

"Not for long. Assuming you actually follow my advice for once, of course." He smiles mischievously.

A grin finds its way onto her face, as she turns around to leave. "I'll see you later."

* * *

 **Iris just couldn't stay away from the Dark Brotherhood...and now, she has to go to the Thieves Guild to talk to Devin! Do you think she'll run into Bryn there? What do you think he'd say after not seeing or hearing from her in two weeks?**

 **Let me know in a review! :)**


	32. Chapter 32

**I AM SO SORRY.**

 **Last week was completely insane, but it's no excuse to post late!**

 **Okay, I'll stop talking so you can read the next chapter! XD**

* * *

Iris's stomach is in knots by the time she reaches Riften's gates. An air of comfort falls over her upon seeing Honeyside and the familiar city. But the comfort is immediately replaced with gut-wrenching nervousness and fear. She hasn't been here in two weeks, and the Guild thought she was out on personal business. What would they think if they knew she was out on Dark Brotherhood business?

After adjusting her Nightingale armor—she prefers it much better than the skin-tight Dark Brotherhood armor—she takes a deep breath and heads for the cemetery. It feels like her heart is going to pound out of her chest when she pushes the button on the sarcophagus and watches the secret entrance slide open. She forces herself to take even breaths. In and out. In and out. Once she's sure she has herself under control, she descends into the Cistern.

The Cistern is nearly empty when Iris hops down from the ladder. Her eyebrows furrow as she looks around herself, finding only Rune and Vipir.

"Iris! You're back!" Rune greets her with a smile.

"It's good to see you," she replies, forcing herself to smile back.

"How was your trip?" he asks, stirring the pot over the fire.

"It was eventful to say the least." Her violet eyes dart around the Cistern again. "Is…Bryn here?"

He shakes his head. "No, he left for a job in Whiterun a couple days ago."

"Oh." She didn't expect to feel disappointment. While she doesn't want to tell him where she's been, she has to admit she misses him. A lot. "Is Delvin in the Flagon?"

Rune nods, and she heads into the tavern.

"Well, look who's back!" Delvin gives her a wide grin as she enters.

She smiles back, taking the seat across from him. "How have you been?"

He shrugs. "Fine. Nothing's really happened since you left." He takes a swig from his bottle. "Oh, and before you ask, Bryn's not here. He's on a job—"

"In Whiterun. Rune told me." She forces herself to grin.

"He should be back any minute now, though, if you want to wait around for him."

"Actually…" She scoots closer, dropping her voice. "I'm here for something else…" She pulls the amulet from her pocket. "Can you appraise this?"

"By the Divines…" Delvin takes the amulet form her hands, examining it with awe. "Do you know what this is?"

She chuckles. "Well, no. That's why I brought it to you."

"These amulets are given to members of the Elder Council. I've no idea how you've gotten your hands on one of these but…" He shakes his head.

"Will you buy it?" Iris asks.

"I have to say, I've always wanted one of these. But I have to ask. How is this related to the Guild?"

"Um…it isn't, exactly." Iris gulps, forcing herself to look at him. " _Astrid_ sent me."

Delvin's eyes widen. "Astrid? As in the Dark Brotherhood? You running with them now?"

She bows her head. "Please don't tell Bryn. I can't—He can't know. I don't want him to know."

Delvin frowns. "He won't think nothing of it, Iris. He knows I still have connections with them."

"Please, Delvin. I don't want him to think I'm some…murderer. I mean, I'll tell him in time, but please. In the meantime, will you keep my secret?"

He regards her for a long moment, fiddling with the amulet.

Iris squirms under his calculating gaze until he lets out a sigh.

"Alright." He looks back to the amulet. "I'll give Astrid a letter of credit." He pulls out a piece of parchment.

"Thank you, Delvin."

He hands her the letter. "I just hope you remember that we had you first."

Iris opens her mouth, a retort on her tongue when Vex approaches.

"Delvin, something's happened." She barely glances at Iris.

 _Nice to see you, too_ , Iris thinks bitterly.

"What is it?"

"Brynjolf's been arrested."

"What?!" Iris and Delvin burst out at the same time.

Iris leaps to her feet. "What happened? Is he okay?"

"Yes, he's fine. Just…in Dragonsreach prison." Vex sighs. "Olfrid sent word that he got the job done alright, but something must have happened."

"We need to get him out," Iris says, panic lacing her voice. "How long has he been in there?"

Vex shrugs. "Don't know. I got word only a few moments ago."

"I can go and break him out," Iris says tersely.

But the blonde lets out a scoff. "You've just waltzed back in here after weeks and think you have what it takes to break him out?"

Angry, Iris opens her mouth to respond, but Delvin cuts her off.

"Maybe Vex is right. We don't want to risk it, do we?"

"I can do it, Delvin," Iris tells him in reproach.

"I'm not doubting you could. Listen, Iris. Our luck is bad enough as it is. Brynjolf has gotten caught once, _maybe_ twice, in his life. And now, he's suddenly gotten caught after completing the job? Something is wrong. Under normal circumstances, I'd say have at it. But we just don't know what could happen."

Iris sighs, rubbing her eyes and feeling the weight of the Skeleton Key in her pocket. "Okay."

Delvin looks to Vex and nods. "I'll leave immediately."

She nods before walking off.

"Iris." Delvin stops Iris before she can leave. "Be careful with the Brotherhood. I know Astrid, and I know she can be a bit…reckless. Just keep your wits about you, alright?"

Iris nods. "I will. I have to get back. Will you let me know how everything goes?"

"Why don't you come back in a couple days to find out yourself?"

She bites her lip, looking down.

"Ah. Don't want to face him, do you?" Delvin catches on.

"I'll see you later," Iris mutters before turning on her heel.

"You'll have to eventually!" Delvin shouts after her.

 _I know_ , she thinks as she flings the door open. _You're not the first to tell me._ And she leaves the Flagon.

* * *

Iris blearily shuffles into the Sanctuary, completely exhausted from the journey.

"Ah, Iris." Astrid approaches her as she enters. "Did you speak with Delvin?"

Iris nods, digging around in her bag for the letter of credit. "Yeah, I did. Turns out that amulet is a special piece only given to members of the _Elder Council_."

Astrid's eyebrows arch, her eyes widening. "The Elder Council? Motierre must be wanting a sort of promotion then, hmm?" She takes the letter. "Calculated kills designed for Motierre's ascent to a powerful position. It makes sense now." She reads over the letter as Iris's eyes droop. "You went into the Guild, then?"

Iris nods. "Yeah."

"Was it as horrible as you imagined?" Astrid smirks.

"No. Mostly because there was almost no one there." Iris sighs, closing her bag. "Listen, I'm really tired. Do you mind if I crash here for a bit?"

"Of course. This is your home, remember."

"Right. Thank you." Iris gives her boss a small smile before descending the steps into the cavern, heading to the barracks. She was kidding herself when she thought she'd make it to her bed without interruption.

"Iris, you're back." Veezara smiles as she passes by. "How was it?"

Iris shrugs. "I mean, there was practically no one there, so it was fine."

"So, you didn't talk to your thief, then." His eyes bore into hers.

Sighing, the Breton nods. "He wasn't there."

"But you didn't wait for him to come back?"

"Listen, Veezara. I don't really understand why you want me to talk to him so much. I will eventually, and that's what matters. Okay?" She moves to pass him.

"I just want you to be happy, Iris."

She stops, turning. "Thank you. But for now, this is what I have to do."

* * *

 **Iris hasn't seen Bryn in two weeks! Why do you think she's avoiding him? And how did Bryn get caught?**

 **Let me know in a review!**

 **Thanks for reading! :)**

 **(PS: I'M SORRY AGAIN)**


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33! Sorry for the delay, but here it is! :)**

* * *

"I just don't understand how—"

"I don't either, Delvin. No one saw me. I know for a fact no one saw me," Brynjolf growls, taking a long draught of ale.

"But someone had to," Vex chimes in, leaning back in her chair.

"Something isn't right." Delvin shakes his head, pulling the ledgers toward him. "Our numbers are awful, but we've had a steady stream of business. We should be swimming in gold. And then our best thief gets caught _after_ the job is done? It's like the curse was never lifted."

Brynjolf crosses his arms, shaking his head. "I know. But Iris returned the Key. This shouldn't still be happening."

"But it is," Vex points out. "So, it's one of two things. One, we're just shitty thieves, and our Guild is going down. Or two, Iris never returned the Key or pissed off Nocturnal somehow and now our luck is still shit." She shrugs one shoulder. "I honestly wouldn't be surprised if Iris pissed off Nocturnal. She's been acting weird lately."

At the mention of Iris, Brynjolf looks up, studying both of them. "What do you mean?"

"She was here two days ago," Delvin mentions, feeling the weight of the Elder Council amulet in his pocket.

"She was? How was she? Did she say how her journey was?"

Delvin shakes his head. "No. She just needed an appraisal done. She was in and out. Didn't say when she was coming back or where she was off to. She was here when Vex received news, though. She offered to go and break you out."

Brynjolf says nothing, chewing the inside of his cheek.

"But I told her no, because, with our luck being the way it is, I was worried something would go wrong," Delvin continues.

Groaning, Brynjolf rubs his eyes. "She's been so damn secretive lately. I mean, I haven't seen her in two weeks, but before she left, she was acting strangely."

Delvin manages to hold his tongue but wishes he never made that promise to Iris.

"She's always been kind of aloof, though," Vex says.

"You just don't like her, Vex," Brynjolf mumbles.

"You're right. I don't." She shrugs. "She never tells us where she's going, when she's coming back—hell, she hadn't been here for two weeks, and she's supposed to be our Guildmaster. And even then, she was only here for ten minutes."

"Okay, I get it, Vex." Bryn takes another long drink.

"I'm just saying. She used to be great. Her entire life seemed to revolve around the Guild; she really picked it back up. But lately, it's like something else has caught her attention." Vex sweeps her blonde hair over her shoulder.

Brynjolf remains quiet, a pensive look on his face.

Delvin exhales loudly. "Well, we can ask her all about it when we see her next."

Vex gets to her feet. "I better head into town. Have that burglary job to do."

"See you later."

Delvin leans in. "Bryn, don't let it worry you. You already spend too much time worrying about her."

Brynjolf lets out a sigh. "I know. I can't help it. She's wormed her way into my head, and I can't get her out."

Delvin chuckles. "Yeah, women will do that to you."

The red-haired thief manages a smile.

"Why don't you get some rest?" Delvin suggests.

"Aye, I feel like I could sleep for a week." Brynjolf finishes his ale and gets to his feet.

"Oh, and Bryn?" Delvin waits as he turns around. "I know Iris means well by keeping her secrets. She hates having you worry about her. She probably keeps her secrets to keep you from stressing."

"What are you saying?"

"I just mean that she has good intentions. She's a good person."

Brynjolf nods. "Aye. She is."

* * *

"Gods rest your soul," Iris whispers, tears in her eyes as she shoves the fake plans into Gaius Maro's pocket. "And may the Gods forgive me." She pulls the mask over her face, blinking tears away as she slips out of the inn. It isn't even a minute later when she hears shouts coming from inside, Penatus Oculatus soldiers running in all directions. She sneaks to her horse and rides away, getting away with yet another murder. She continues riding until she finds a clearing just off the road. She pulls her horse to a stop, sliding off the creature and falling to her knees.

"I don't think I can do this anymore," she whispers to herself.

"Listener…"

Iris's head jerks up, her violet eyes darting in all directions to find where the hissing voice came from. Seeing no one, she gets to her feet, her hand on the hilt of her blade.

"Who's there?"

She would've thought it was the Night Mother, but the Night Mother's voice doesn't sound so…masculine.

Another hushed whisper tingles her ears, something rustling in her pocket. Frowning, she looks down, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a wrinkled piece of parchment.

"Oh…" It's the summoning spell for the Dark Brotherhood assassin. Is he…calling to her?

Iris clears her throat, blinking the tears away. "Lucien Lachance, come forth from the Void," her shaky voice reads.

A gasp leaves her mouth as a swirling light appears in front of her, leaving behind a ghostly figure who walks right up to her.

"At last. I thought you'd never call," he figure's deep voice rumbles.

"Wh–who are you?" Iris asks, stepping backward in apprehension.

"You only spoke my name a moment ago." He shakes his head. "I am Lucien Lachance."

"Right…sorry. It's been a long day." Iris shakes her head. "I'm Iris Liriiette."

"Ah, yes, the timid Listener. Murder is not in your nature, is it?"

Iris flinches at his words. "I…I don't enjoy it."

"Yet you do it anyway? There must be a part of you that likes it. Of course, you do not have a choice, being the Listener." Lucien crosses his arms.

"So, how does this work, anyway?"

"I simply come when summoned and leave when you wish. It is not difficult, dear Listener." His voice laces with sarcasm.

"I was just asking," Iris mutters, climbing back onto her horse. "I have to get back to the Sanctuary and let Astrid know I finished the contract."

"Ah, yes. Stalking your prey, planting false evidence, destroying an innocent man's reputation…truly a contract worthy of the Listener."

She squeezes her eyes shut at his words. "Please, don't say that. I didn't want to do that."

Lucien chuckles. "You are a complicated one, Listener. I am sure we will enjoy working together."

"Right. Well, unless you want to run alongside me, I'll summon you again once I get to the Sanctuary."

"As you wish."

Before Iris can react, Lucien disappears with a swirl of light.

* * *

The last thing Iris expects to see when she returns to the Sanctuary is a wounded Veezara surrounded by her Family.

"Just try to relax, Veezara. Let the elixir do its work. You'll feel better shortly," Babette is saying as Iris descends the steps into the main cavern, Lucien in tow.

"Damn it, this never should have happened!" Astrid shouts. "We knew better, and still we let our guards down." She groans.

Iris's eyes only see her friend as she and the ghost approach the group. Blood coats the Argonian's side, his hand wrapped around the wound.

"Bested by a fool," Veezara says in a dry voice. "Who's the fool now, hmm?"

"Hush, Veezara. You were very brave. Astrid may well be dead if not for you," the vampire gushes.

"She's right. I'll be forever in your debt, dearest brother. Now, be quiet. Just…just rest."

Iris approaches the blonde, her brow knit with worry. "Astrid—"

"Maro is dead, I know," Astrid waves her off. "But we've got bigger problems right now!"

"What happened?" Iris frowns, looking to the Argonian.

"Cicero happened. The fool went absolutely berserk! He wounded Veezara, tried to kill me, and then he fled. I knew that lunatic couldn't be trusted."

"What? That doesn't make any sense. Cicero would never—"

"It's true, I'm afraid," Festus interrupts the Breton. "Cicero was a little whirlwind, slashing this way and that. It would have been funny, if he weren't trying to murder us all."

"Don't forget the ranting and raving," Nazir chimes in. "About the Night Mother, how she was the true leader of the Dark Brotherhood, and Astrid was just a 'pretender'."

At Nazir's words, Iris hears Lucien let out a thoughtful hum. She gives him a look, which he returns with a shrug.

"Look, we've got to deal with this situation," Astrid turns back to Iris. " _You've_ got to deal with this situation."

"What? Me?" Iris's eyebrows raise. "Why?"

"I want you to find that miserable little fool and end his life."

"What? But—"

"But first find my husband," Astrid goes on. "After the attack, Arnbjorn flew into a rage. when Cicero left…Arnbjorn went after him. They disappeared into the wild. Search Cicero's room. Maybe there's something in there that sheds some light on where he might have gone. Let me know the minute you find something. I've got to see to Veezara and calm everyone down."

"I—Okay." Sighing in defeat, Iris turns her back and heads for Cicero's quarters. Once out of earshot, she turns to Lucien. "I can't believe he'd do that. Not without good reason."

"He is insane, though, is he not? Reason does not exist for those without sanity," Lucien purrs, following her into Cicero's room.

"I know…It just doesn't seem like him." Iris shakes her head, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. "Okay, let's see…"

While Iris searches the room, Lucien leans against the wall, observing her.

"You appear conflicted, Listener."

"I'm looking for a clue to where Cicero's gone," Iris retorts.

"That is not what I meant." He crosses his arms, leaning against the wall and reminding her of a certain red-haired someone. "If you despise killing so much, why join the Dark Brotherhood?" Lucien asks.

"I…I don't know. It just kind of…happened." Iris crouches down and tries to open Cicero's trunk.

"Nothing simply _happens_ , Listener."

"Locked," she mutters, digging in her pocket for the Skeleton Key.

"You made a conscious choice in joining. That doesn't happen on its own," the ghost continues as she unlocks the trunk with ease.

"I don't know why I joined, okay?" Iris bursts out, turning to face him. "I want to stop, but something is keeping me here. I don't know what it is. I don't like killing. I don't like being the Listener. I want to leave and never look back but…"

"But?"

Iris shrugs, her eyes downcast. "I don't know. I can't get myself to."

Lucien chuckles, a deep rumble. "The Night Mother truly has a hold on you, Listener."

She shakes her head adamantly, refusing his words. "No." She turns back to the trunk.

"Deny it all you wish. You know the truth. You can't escape the Night Mother. She's in your head," Lucien continues as Iris digs through the trunk.

Iris shakes her head again, fighting back tears.

"You can't run from Her, especially not now. You're the Listener. You can't choose to stop. You—"

"I know, Lucien! I know!" The room rumbles with Iris's Voice. "I said I _want_ to leave. Not that I'm going to. Just…please, stop." A tear drips down her face, and she hurriedly swipes it away. She turns to the trunk, not wanting to meet the ghost's gaze. There. At the bottom of the trunk lies a stack of journals. Cicero's journals. Iris pulls them out, sitting down on the bed, and opens volume one. As Iris reads, her heart breaks. More and more with each volume, with each tragic story. By the end, tears stream unabashedly down Iris's face. She gently closes the last volume, rubbing her eyes.

"He wasn't always insane," she whispers to the ghostly assassin.

The temperature drops as he approaches her, holding out a transparent hand. "May I?"

She hands him the journals and watches with tear-filled eyes as he flips through them.

Her eyes burning, she takes a deep breath, feeling as though she's been sitting there for a century as Lucien reads Cicero's story.

Finally, he closes the last volume, placing it on the bed next to her. He meets her eyes.

"This explains a lot."

Iris nods. "Yeah. It does." Her voice is a whisper. Sighing, she gets to her feet. "I should go tell Astrid."

"Yes, the Dawnstar Sanctuary," Lucien agrees, following her.

Iris approaches Astrid and tells her about the abandoned Sanctuary.

"Why there?" Astrid's nose crinkles. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. You need to leave. Now. Every moment counts, so I want you to take my horse. His name is Shadowmere. You'll find him outside by the pool. Let's just say he's…one of us." Astrid grips Iris's arm. "Find Arnbjorn. Make sure my husband's all right. And then, send that jester's twisted little soul to the Void, in as many pieces as possible."

Iris hesitates, clearing her throat. "Isn't there another way to do this? You know, without violence?"

Iris seems to shrivel under Astrid's hard glare. "He tried to kill all of us, Iris. He betrayed us. Betrayal equals death."

Betrayal. Betrayal equals death. The young Breton swallows thickly, trying not to think about the Skeleton Key in her pocket. She nods silently before turning on her heel and heading outside.

Lucien catches up with her, striding to her side. "The Keeper is a sacred position within the Dark Brotherhood," he says. "Ask yourself, do you trust the wisdom of our Lady?"

"I know. I don't want to kill him, Lucien." She pulls the door open, stepping out into the clearing.

"I will kill the jester if you so desire," Lucien continues. "But there is a disturbance in the Void. Our Dread Father does not wish this."

"I don't either."

"Then, we are on the same page."

Iris's violet orbs widen as the pool begins to bubble before her. Steam rises from the water, turning a murky black as something ascends from the dark waters.

"Shadowmere…" Lucien whispers as a horse steps out from the water.

Iris tiptoes up to it, stretching a hand out.

Its eyes flutter open, forcing a gasp from Iris's throat. Its eyes…she's never seen anything so red. True, unaltered red. The purest red she's ever seen.

Lucien walks up to the horse, petting its mane. "My old and dear friend," he murmurs.

Shadowmere whinnies, apparently recognizing the ghost.

"You…knew him?" Iris asks Lucien.

"I did. In life, Shadowmere was my steed."

Shadowmere nuzzles Iris's hand as she strokes his head. A rare laugh leaves her lips at the affection.

"It's nice to meet you, too," she giggles. As soon as her smile had come, it drops from her face as she mounts the horse. "Okay. Onto Dawnstar." She eyes the ghost. "I'll summon you again once I get there."

"Of course."

He disappears, and Iris sets off for Dawnstar.

* * *

 **Yay, Lucien has joined the story! I always felt safer in Skyrim with him following me around...though, I don't think Iris feels the same way...**

 **Thanks for reading! :)**

 **Please favorite, follow, and review!**


	34. Author's Note

**Hey, everyone. I wanted to apologize for my absence lately. I've been horrible at updating, and I wanted to give you all an explanation. Last month, I was diagnosed with depression. It's been a roller coaster of a time trying to get my feelings in check and getting used to my new medication. All my motivation flew out the window, and I couldn't get myself to write for weeks. In the midst of all of this, my grandfather was placed on hospice care at the beginning of this month and passed away two weeks ago. I'm not telling you all this to try and get your sympathy; I just feel I owe you all an explanation for my absence. I'm so so sorry for not posting in forever, but I am trying to get myself writing again. I promise I will post a new chapter as soon as I can. This healing process has been quite a journey so far, but I know I'll be able to do it. Thank you all for your continued support, understanding, and patience. It honestly means the world to me :)**

 **-Totoro216**


	35. Chapter 34

**I'm back! I've been trying really hard to overcome my writer's block, and I'm finally getting some progress. I am so sorry again for the long wait. I'm slowly getting back on my feet and will try to post regularly once more.**

 **I also wanted to thank you all so so much for the kind words; they warmed my heart, and I am so happy to have your support 3 It's such an amazing feeling to know that there are people out there-who don't even really know me!-who care so much. I am beyond thankful for your patience and support :) You're the best readers ever!**

 **Now, without further ado, here's Chapter 34!**

* * *

Brynjolf sweeps the hood from his head upon entering Riften through the gates. His eyes wander to Iris's house on their own as he walks by, and he finds himself worrying over her once more. The house still stands empty; it looks as though she hasn't been there in weeks. Come to think of it, he hasn't seen her for three weeks now. He can only hope she'll stop by the Guild soon.

He continues on his way, taking the familiar path past the Bee and Barb and intending to head to the cemetery when he notices a crowd of people standing around a courier in the marketplace. Curious, he meanders to the crowd, straining his ears.

"Dead? What do you mean dead?" Haelga shouts out.

A flash of blonde hair catches Brynjolf's eyes, and he spots Vex standing at the edge of the crowd.

Sidling up to her, he asks, "What's going on?"

She shakes her head, crossing her arms. "Gaius Maro is dead."

His eyebrows raise in surprise. "Gaius Maro? How?"

She leans in, dropping her voice. "They say it was the Dark Brotherhood. But that's not all. Supposedly, the guards discovered plans on the body. Assassination plans."

"What? For whose assassination?"

She draws back, a smirk on her face. "The Emperor."

Stunned, Brynjolf leans against the stone wall. "Damn. I suppose that explains this uproar." He gestures to the feisty crowd.

"It's a big scandal. News just came in an hour ago, but the poor courier hasn't been able to leave yet. Too many questions." Vex smirks again, watching the crowd. "Provided a great opportunity for some shopping though." She pulls a coin purse out of her pocket along with a strand of pearls. "People become very distracted when they're upset."

Brynjolf can't help but laugh at his fellow thief. "I better get back to the Flagon. I need to tell Delvin that I finished the Morthal job."

She nods, tucking the stolen property back into her pocket. "Hear anything from Iris?"

Sighing, he shakes his head. "No. And I'm trying not to expect to."

Vex's frown deepens. "You shouldn't waste your time worrying about her when she's clearly not worrying about you, Bryn. You deserve to be happy. Not to pine over someone who won't even bother to visit you."

Brynjolf feels stabbed by her words. "You're wrong, Vex. Iris has her secrets, but we still care about each other. I know you don't like her, but I do. I can't make myself stop worrying about her. Believe me, I've tried."

"I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"I appreciate it, but I'm fine." He gives her a small smile. "I need to get back."

"I'll see you around."

Brynjolf manages to fight his way out of the yelling crowd and ducks into the cemetery. Vex's words echo in his mind, no matter how hard he tries to stifle them. She does have a point. Why hasn't Iris visited? She's back from her Dragonborn business; she was in the Flagon only a few days ago, but she still hasn't come to see him? Something seems off. There's something she's not telling him.

He scoffs to himself.

There's always something she's not telling him. Before, he was fine with her secrecy. They weren't very close yet, and he respected her desire for privacy. He knows he should still feel the same, but something keeps him from doing so. Before, she'd leave on jobs that should've taken two days or so and would be gone for weeks. She'd never tell him where she was, and he never asked. He wondered, sure, but he never asked. But now? He feels so invested in her life that he almost feels like he has a right to know. But…he can't think like that. He can't force Iris to tell him everything; it isn't fair. Especially, when he never bothered to tell her the whole story about his family. He just wishes she trusted him more to let him in.

Sighing, he runs a hand through his disheveled hair and kicks the button on the sarcophagus.

Climbing down the ladder, he half-expects to hear Iris's bubbly laugh echoing through the cistern, laughing at something Rune said. But of course, there's no trace of her, though the cistern is more crowded than usual. It seems everyone, save one, is actually home for once.

"Evening, Bryn," Vipir greets him. "You hear about Maro?"

"Aye, I did."

"Do you think it was the Dark Brotherhood? I thought they were all gone," Vipir comments, going to a fire to stir the pot.

"So, did I. But it's a possibility. Everyone thought the Thieves Guild was gone, yet here we are."

Vipir nods thoughtfully, tasting the soup he's stirring. "Ugh, needs more salt."

Laughing softly, Brynjolf continues on his way to the Flagon, immediately ordering an ale when he takes his usual seat.

"Hey, Bryn." With a groan, Delvin takes the seat across from him. "Finish that Morthal job?"

"I did. In and out. It was easy."

Delvin nods, taking a drink. "Good."

Vekel approaches the table and brings Brynjolf his ale.

"Thanks, lad," Brynjolf thanks him. "You hear about Gaius Maro?" he asks Delvin, taking a drink.

"Who hasn't?"

"They say it was the Dark Brotherhood."

A strange look crosses Delvin's face. "Did they now?"

"Aye…" Brynjolf frowns, confused by Delvin's reaction. "Do you believe it was them?"

Delvin looks down, swirling his mead around. "It could be."

"Do you still…do business with them?" Brynjolf asks tentatively, taking a long swig.

"Sometimes." Delvin shakes his head, clearing his throat. "Want another job?"

Brynjolf sighs, downing the rest of his drink. "Might as well. I can't sit around here hoping for Iris to stop by forever, can I?"

Delvin chuckles. "You've got it bad, Bryn. Here's what I have."


	36. Chapter 35

**Happy new year! I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday :) I'm still trying to overcome my writer's block little by little, and I appreciate everyone's patience with me :) You guys are the best! Now, without further ado, here's Chapter 35!**

* * *

"Alright, so Cicero attacked that harlot, Astrid! But what's a fool to do when his mother is slandered and mocked? Surely, the Listener understands!" Cicero's voice echoes through Iris's ears as she pulls her blade out of the troll's carcass, wiping it on her sleeve.

"Thanks for your help," she tells her ghostly companion with sarcasm.

Lucien arches an eyebrow. "You were handling it well enough without my assistance."

Iris rolls her eyes, looking to the bloodstains marring the ground. She gestures for Lucien to follow and continues following the stains. A gasp leaves her mouth as two Sanctuary guardians pounce, catching her completely unaware. She squeezes her eyes shut, expecting to feel the piercing pain of a dagger in her shoulder, but instead only hears a groan. Opening her eyes, she finds Lucien wiping his blade on his long, black robes, two piles of ectoplasm at his feet.

"Lead on, sister," he tells her, a slight smirk on his face.

Shaking her head, she steps over the two piles, searching for the trail of blood.

"Cicero admits, he thought the Listener would be dead by now." Cicero's wry chuckles echoes throughout the Sanctuary. "Maybe we could just forget all this? Hmm? Let bygones be bygones? What do you say?"

"I do hope you have thought of what you plan to do about our Keeper," Lucien says from behind her.

"I have." Iris successfully sneaks up behind a Guardian and slits his ghostly throat before he even knows she's there.

Lucien moves toward the other and skillfully parries its blows. Iris straightens up, watching as Lucien defeats the ghost. She opens her mouth to thank him for earlier, but Cicero's echoing voice sounds again.

"If it's any comfort, I do feel slightly bad about Veezara. Stupid lizard got in my way! But please tell me that hulking sheepdog has bled to death."

The Breton follows the hallway and blood to a barred doorway. Spotting a lever, she wraps her bloodied fingers around it and pulls. The bars retract into the floor, and the two assassins sneak into the next room. The hallway dead ends, two doors on either side, one barred.

"And now we come to the end of our play," Cicero's voice says through one of the doors. "The grand finale."

Iris looks to Lucien, her mouth opening silently as she sheathes her sword. She pushes the door open, gasping when she finds the jester lying on his side, blood everywhere.

"You caught me! I surrender!" Cicero shouts in a feeble voice, letting out an equally feeble chuckle.

"Cicero…" Iris approaches his side, watching him with worried eyes.

"Please, Listener. Killing me would be a mistake! Oh, yes. You would displease our mother, hmm? For she's your mother too, isn't she…Listener? Your mother abandoned you, but your real Mother, she stayed."

Iris squeezes her eyes shut, hating how much his words hurt.

"Walk away! Let poor Cicero live! Tell the pretender, Astrid, you did the job! Stabbed, strangled, drowned poor Cicero! One itty bitty lie!"

Iris closes the distance between them, kneeling down to lay a hand on his shoulder.

"Do what you will. Cicero has…no fight left," the jester wheezes out. "In the end, Sithis will judge us both."

"Listener…" Lucien warns her, moving behind her.

Iris's hand slips into her pack; Cicero's wide eyes follow her hand in fear.

"Listener, you can't—" Lucien's words stop as she draws a health potion from her bag.

She gently helps Cicero into a sitting position, silently putting the potion to his lips. "I would never kill my own brother," she whispers, tears in her eyes.

"Oh, thank you, Listener," Cicero mutters after finishing the potion. "Thank you."

Lucien gives her an approving nod, his stern features motionless.

Iris wipes the tears from her eyes. "You have to stay hidden. Can you hide out here until everything blows over? In time, maybe Astrid will forgive you."

Cicero nods. "Oh, yes. Cicero will hide here. No one will ever find Cicero!"

"Good." Iris gets to her feet, helping the jester to a bed. "Will you be alright on your own?"

After assuring Iris that he'll be more than fine, Cicero lets her give him a sleeping potion.

"When you wake up, your wounds should be healed," Iris whispers.

"Cicero owes you his life, dearest Listener."

The Breton smiles, softly kissing his forehead. "Hush now. Get some sleep." Iris tucks him into bed, and leaves with Lucien, both silent for a long while.

* * *

The two are halfway to the Sanctuary when Lucien speaks.

"Forgive me for doubting you, Listener."

Iris turns in surprise at the apology. "It's fine, Lucien. I wasn't completely sure what I was going to do, either."

"Perhaps your aversion to killing actually paid off."

The violet-eyed thief frowns, feeling an unwelcome topic approaching yet again.

"Why are you still here, Listener?" Lucien asks.

Iris stops walking, turning around to face the ghost. "What are you talking about?"

He chuckles, deep in his chest. "If you hate killing so much, why are you still in the Dark Brotherhood? Why haven't you left?"

Iris's mouth opens, but no words come out. She doesn't know. Okay, well, she does know, but she doesn't want to tell Lucien.

"Well, it's like you said. I don't really have a choice, do I?" she says, crossing her arms. "It's not like I can quit being the Listener."

"But you haven't even tried. What if you could?"

She stays silent.

"I have the slightest inkling that you enjoy being an assassin. You complain about it, but you haven't stopped anything. You haven't changed anything. I wonder why your mouth so readily disagrees with your heart."

Iris's fists clench as she tries to keep them from shaking. "I'm not an assassin."

Lucien scoffs. "And I'm not a ghost."

"Can we please not talk about this?"

"You avoid it every time I bring it up, but you've yet to provide me with an answer."

"Did you ever think it was because I don't want you to know?"

"Ah, so there is an explanation."

Iris's mouth snaps closed at her slip. Her hand comes up to rub her eyes, her breath coming out in a defeated whoosh.

"Tell me, Liriiette. And I vow to stop asking."

"Fine." She drops her hand, crossing her arms tightly around her torso. "Let's just say I'm…acquainted with a certain person who…who wouldn't be very happy to know I've been running with the Dark Brotherhood, okay?"

"Ahh, afraid of what others will think of you once they know you're a killer?"

"I'm not a killer."

Lucien laughs at her. "Always in denial." His hand cradles his chin as he looks her up and down. "Let me guess…is this certain someone a lover?"

It feels like a knife to the heart. "I'm done talking about this." Iris whirls on her heel and stalks off.

Lucien chuckles, watching the Listener storm off. He knows a killer when he sees one. And based on the contracts he's accompanied her on? She's a natural.

And she loves it.

* * *

 **Our sweet Iris is becoming quite the murderous little thing, isn't she? Always in denial...**

 **What do you think will happen next? Do you think Iris made the right call in sparing Cicero?**

 **Let me know in a review!**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	37. Chapter 36

**I'm back!**

 **I managed to overcome my awful writer's block to get this chapter written. I'm also working on some others, so keep an eye out! I really want to get this story going again. I have a really cool plot line planned out, and I think you guys will really like it. So, I'm going to try to get this story back up and running, despite my writer's block!**

 **I really appreciate everyone's patience and understanding :) You're the best readers ever, and I'm so thankful for you all.**

 **Now, here's the long awaited Chapter 36!**

* * *

Kicking off his boots with a sigh, Brynjolf sinks into his bed, pulling the blankets over his head to muffle the sound of trickling water. In the distance, he hears Niruin and Rune muttering to each other from across the cistern. He rolls over, letting out another sigh, and tries to keep his mind blank. It doesn't work, of course. His mind whirls with thoughts of the Guild, the Nightingales, and if Iris really returned the Skeleton Key. His sleeplessness isn't helped by Niruin and Rune's mumbled conversation either.

"Hold a moment, Rune. What did you think about my idea?" Niruin's whispered voice floats to Brynjolf's ears.

Rune lets out a breathy scoff. "Your idea to start a brothel, right? Do you want me to tell you exactly what I think?"

The two thieves seem to be walking around the cistern, passing Brynjolf's bed.

"Well, yes! Please!" Niruin urges the other thief.

"I think if Brynjolf catches wind of it, he'll boot you right out of here! So, drop it already!" Rune hisses.

Brynjolf manages to suppress a laugh from under his blankets until the two wander into the Flagon. He turns to his other side, squeezing his eyes shut. He wonders where Iris is right now, and why she's been gone for so long. And why she still hasn't stopped by to visit, he adds bitterly.

Brynjolf lies there for hours, tossing and turning, unable to get a wink of sleep. Frustrated, he finally gives up, whipping the blankets off of him and stalking to the ladder.

Moments later, he stands in Nightingale Hall, making his way to the bedroom. He lets out a comfortable sigh upon lying on the soft bed.

"This is much better," he mutters, happy to hear nothing but silence. He lets his eyes fall closed and sinks a little further into his pillow.

* * *

 _"_ _Brynjolf."_

 _Brynjolf's eyes shoot open in alarm, leaping to his feet. "Who's there?" Astounded, he finds a violet light hovering in the doorway. Before he can approach it, it moves, zooming through the doorway with Brynjolf chasing after it. He follows the light to the cavern in which they spoke to Nocturnal the first time. The light hovers in the center platform, a tendril of violet reaching toward his chest. As soon as the light touches his chest, he gasps, his vision blinded._

 _"_ _A traitor lurks in our midst," a disembodied voice hisses, piercing his ears. "She will destroy us all."_

 _A burst of light shines behind his eyes, a light object forced into his hand. He raises his hand to his burning eyes, finding his fingers curled around the Skeleton Key. The Key glows red-hot, burning and blistering his hand before crumbling to dust. The light becomes unbearable, his eyes watering with pain. He lashes out, desperately trying to free his eyes when a booming voice fills his mind._

 _"_ _Find her!"_

* * *

With a gasp, Brynjolf shoots up in bed, his chest heaving.

"Just a dream," he tries to assure himself. His body is drenched in a cold sweat, his hand sore. "Just a dream." But when he raises his sore hand to his eyes, he finds a line of blisters eating away at his flesh. Another gasp leaves his mouth as he clutches his wrist. "By the Nine…" Shaking his head, he leaps out of bed and stuffs his feet into his boots. He needs to find Karliah.

Now.

* * *

"Poison stew, eh? I've always been partial to apples myself."

"Shh!" Iris hushes the loud-mouthed ghost as she adjusts the chef's hat over her hair. "You're going to give me away."

Lucien laughs darkly. "You're going to give yourself away, Listener," he says, looking her up and down. "Do you really think adding a chef's hat to your Dark Brotherhood attire will convince them that you're the Gourmet?"

She lets out a huff, looking down at herself. "I'm going to change my clothes, Lucien. I'm not that stupid."

He peers out over the docks, spotting the body of the real Gourmet sinking beneath the murky water. "If you say so."

"I do say so. I just wanted to see if the hat fits." She gives up on the chef's hat and stuffs it into her bag. "Come on. We need to get to Solitude."

The pair hit the road again, traveling toward Solitude.

They arrive three days later, and Iris pays for a room at the Winking Skeever and starts planning.

"Okay, so I have the Writ of Passage and the chef's hat and the poison. Getting in will be easy. But—"

"But getting out is the difficult part," Lucien finishes for her.

"Just like the wedding." Iris frowns, tapping her chin with her index finger. "What door is nearest to the dining room?" She looks to the phantom for an answer, but he only shrugs.

"What makes you think I know?"

Sighing, she rolls her eyes before climbing off her bed. "I guess we better do some scouting then."

* * *

The two spend a good hour scouting the palace and trying to figure out the best way out. Iris decides on the bridge which directly connects to the dining room and leads to outside the town. It's perfect.

"That looks like the door Astrid told me about, too," she says to the ghost.

"She told you which door to escape from?"

Iris nods, rummaging around in her bag as they head back to the Winking Skeever.

"Then, tell me, Listener, why did we just spend an hour scouting out all the possible exits?"

She stops when she notices Lucien has stopped walking alongside her. She turns around, rolling her eyes. "I wanted to make sure it really was the best way."

"Hm, first you went against your leader's wishes and kept Cicero alive, and now, you're doubting her expertise?"

She hates the sly smile he has on his face. "I just wanted to find out for myself. That's all."

He hums thoughtfully from behind her, and she continues on her way.

She collapses onto the bed when she finally gets back to the inn, her chest tight as she remembers the last time she spent time at the Winking Skeever. She was with Bryn. The night of the whole drinking contest fiasco. A smile finds its way to her lips as she remembers Bryn stumbling out of the room when she finally came back with the staff. He looked absolutely hungover. She giggles at the memory. They had spent the rest of the day trying to recover from their nasty hangovers. She can't remember how many times Bryn had to run to the washroom to vomit.

But now, she gazes around the empty room, her heart clenched. She hears the happy voices of travelers out in the hall, talking with one another, having a good time together. It makes her miss Bryn even more. It amplifies her guilt. Tears rush to her eyes as she pulls the thick blankets over her head, glad that she sent Lucien away. At this point, it's easier to stay away from Bryn. It's too hard to face him just yet. She'll work on mustering up the courage in the meantime, but, honestly, she's not in any rush.

* * *

"Stop right there," Commander Maro halts Iris's trek to the tower. "The tower is off limits until further notice."

Iris adjusts the chef's hat perched precariously on her brown hair before showing the Commander the Writ of Passage. Her stomach rolls with hatred as she remembers the last time she saw the commander. She was about to be executed.

Suddenly, a flash of lifeless blue eyes overtakes her mind, and the hatred is replaced with guilt. She killed his only son.

"Let me see that," Maro says, snatching the note from her hands. "Order of his eminence…possessor of these papers…the Gourmet—" His blue gaze snaps up from the paper to view Iris. "The Gourmet?! I'm so sorry! Your clothes…of course…I should've realized." He hands the note back to her. "Please, excuse my ignorance. Gianna, the castle chef, is waiting for you inside."

He steps aside.

"Thank you," Iris tells him as she brushes past him and enters the tower.

Lucien appears at her command, invisible to everyone but her. "So far, so good," he purrs.

Iris only gulps in reply, hating that Astrid chose her to do this. She dusts off the skirt of her dress in nervousness, another bout of sadness hitting her as she remembers the last time she wore this purple dress. Bryn had told her it complimented her eyes.

"Listener, you appear distracted," Lucien cuts through her thoughts.

"I'm fine," she replies, ridding her head of the memories.

The two enter the kitchen and approach a dark-haired Imperial woman, Gianna.

"Not another delivery!" the woman's shrill voice shrieks. "I told you people, our stocks are fine. Now, put whatever you have over there, and get out!"

Iris arches an eyebrow, ready to play the role of her life. "Excuse me?" She places a hand on her chest for emphasis. "I am the Gourmet!"

Gianna's eyes almost pop out of her skull. "The Gourmet? Oh! Finally." The woman stirs the stew pot separating them. "When I heard the Gourmet was being brought in to cook for the Emperor, I could hardly believe it! It's just…" She trails off, scanning Iris.

"Yes?"

"You're a woman!"

"Astute observation," Lucien mutters.

"So, are you?" Iris replies, annoyed.

"I just…I always assumed the Gourmet was a man. How did you manage to get to where you are now?" Gianna asks.

"It's a long story." She sighs. "Just keep…doing what you're doing, and you might be like me someday."

"How inspirational," Lucien says, peering into the stew pot.

"Let's just cook, shall we?"

Gianna nods eagerly. "The Emperor requested your signature dish, the Potage le Magnifique. I've taken the liberty of getting it started." She gestures to the stew pot. "But the cookbook only says so much, and everyone makes the Potage differently. I would be honored if we could make it the Gourmet's special way."

Lucien lets out a low chuckle. "Ah, yes, the Gourmet's way is quite special."

Ignoring the ghost, Iris nods and approaches the pot. "Of course."

"The base broth is already boiling. Which ingredient should I add next?" Gianna asks.

Bryn often teased Iris for her deficiency in cooking. And now she's posing as the greatest chef in Cyrodil?

"Uh, carrots." She assumes this is a safe choice.

But Gianna scrunches her nose. "Carrots? Really? Okay…" She chops them up and adds them to the pot. "What next?"

Iris's eyes scan the counter for another ingredient. "A splash of mead."

"Ah, of course. I suspected as much."

"You've never cooked in your life, have you?"

Iris jumps at Lucien's voice in her ear. Clearing her throat, she says, "We should add some…nirnroot now."

"Really?" Gianna looks puzzled at the next 'ingredient'. "Oh, yeah, I use nirnroot as a special seasoning all the time, as well."

Lucien actually growls. "Maybe we should feed her some stew, too."

"Now what?" Gianna asks.

Iris peers into the stew, wringing her hands. "Um, some diced horker meat."

"Alright." Gianna adds the meat without question or comment for which Iris and the ghost are thankful. "I have to say, the stew seems done. If we add anything else, it might dilute the distinct flavors."

"Why don't you let me decide when it's done?" She can't help it. She's overcome with stress for what she has to do and annoyance for how Gianna's acting.

"Uh, right. You're the expert."

"One more ingredient." Iris reaches into her pocket and pulls out the Jarrin root. "This."

Gianna takes the root, holding it up to her eyes. "What's this? Some kind of herb? Are you sure? The Potage tastes perfect already. Another ingredient might—"

"Who's the Gourmet again? I could've sworn it was me."

Gianna's brown eyes widen. "Right, I'm sorry." She tosses the root into the stew and gives it a stir. "Alright, it's done. It's been an honor to prepare a meal with the best chef in the Empire." She actually bows. "I'll carry the pot to the dining room. I'm sure the Emperor and his guests are dying to meet you."

Lucien chuckles as they walk toward the dining room. "Dying indeed."

* * *

 **I'm sorry it's so short, but the next chapter is going to be fun :D** **And it's better than nothing, right? *nervous laugh***

 **Ahem, anyway...**

 **What do you think is going through Bryn's head right now? How could "his little Iris" do something so horrible?**

 **Then, again, she's in the Dark Brotherhood now about to murder the Emperor so...**

 **Thanks so much for reading! Keep an eye out for another update from me in the next couple of weeks ;)**

 **As always, be sure to favorite, follow, and review! I'd love to hear from you :D**


	38. Chapter 37

**Here's the long awaited Chapter 37! As the Gourmet would say, enjoy :)**

* * *

Brynjolf waited in Nightingale Hall for three days straight, and Karliah never showed up. He doesn't know how to contact her. He realizes he knows nothing about her.

Cursing under his breath, he kicks a large stone, sending it skittering across the dirt path as he walks back to Riften. He needs to speak to someone about all this. He just needs to know if he's overthinking it. But that dream…As hard as it is for him to believe, Iris never returned the Key. He doesn't know why; all he knows is that she didn't. That dream proved that. He passes by Iris's house once again, slowing down to see if any lights are on. As usual, Honeyside lies dark. At least, now he knows why she is avoiding him.

But then an idea hits him. What if he hides in Iris's house until she comes back? He has no idea when that will be, but he hasn't seen her in over four weeks. Surely, she'll have to stop by soon to relax. Before he can talk himself out of it, he slips to the front door, picking the lock with ease, before stepping inside.

* * *

"Here we are…Gods, I'm nervous," Gianna blabbers as the two of them stand outside of the dining room. "We'll go in just a moment. Please, I'll serve. You just stand there, and be amazing."

Iris can't reply because of the twisting in her heart. She's about to assassinate the Emperor.

The fucking Emperor.

"Are you alright?"

Iris snaps out of her panic when Gianna leans into her face.

"I, um, always get a little nervous beforehand," Iris says, straining to stop her shaking hands. She glances sideways at the ghost who looks bored if anything.

"Quite understandable," the obnoxious cook nods. "Good to know the best of us still get nervous."

"Let me wring her neck," Lucien growls.

Iris would laugh if she wasn't so terrified.

"Here we go," Gianna whispers as she opens the door.

"Yes, an unfortunate turn of events, that," the Emperor is saying as the two "chefs" walk into the opulent dining room. "But an isolated incident. And I have been assured that the fault was with the man's son alone."

Iris almost freezes when she hears the mention of Maro's son.

"Truth is, we are in no danger whatsoever. Killing an Emperor can be useful, but befriending one? Now, that's beneficial as I'm sure you'd all agree."

"Let's just slit his throat right now," Lucien purrs, leaning over the Emperor's shoulder.

"Aha!" The Emperor claps his hands, noticing Gianna and Iris. "Here we are. Honored guests, I present to you, the Gourmet!"

Iris smiles at them all, bowing her head to each noble seated at the table. She's surprised she hasn't passed out from nerves already.

Gianna goes around the table serving the aromatic stew to each diner as Iris stands by the wall, her hands folded so no one sees them shaking.

Lucien moves to float next to her, a devious smile on his transparent face.

"You should be savoring this moment, Listener. What you're about to do will be remembered forever."

She can't say anything in reply unless she wants the Emperor to think the Gourmet is crazy.

Gianna returns to her side when she finishes serving the stew. Iris gulps as the Emperor picks up his spoon.

"Ah, the Potage le Magnifique. So delicious." The Emperor takes a big inhalation of the soup. "My friends, as Emperor, I, of course, reserve the right of first taste."

The nobles guffaw in response as the Emperor dips his spoon into the soup.

Iris holds her breath as the Emperor sips the deadly stew. "Oh…oh, how marvelous," he croons. "It is everything I had hoped it would be." He takes another spoonful. "It…" Suddenly, his blissful expression turns to one of alarm. "I…I think something's…wrong…"

Iris's nails tear through the skin of her palm as the Emperor begins to choke. Her eyes widen in horror as the Emperor's eyes bug out from lack of oxygen.

"I…I…"

Everyone watches as the Emperor slumps over his bowl, splashing stew all over the table.

Time seems to stop as everyone stares at the Emperor's dead body.

Then, Oblivion breaks loose.

"By the Gods, the Gourmet and the chef have poisoned the Emperor!"

Iris snaps out of her trance to see Gianna's terrified face next to her.

"Get them!" the guard yells.

Iris doesn't waste any time. She takes a running leap and vaults over the table, knocking dishes all over the floor. She scrambles to the door and yanks it open, noticing Lucien's absence. The cool air blows the chef's hat off her head as she races across the bridge.

But she doesn't make it far until four guards appear on the other side of the bridge, blocking her way.

She's reaching for her sword when she hears slow clapping.

"That man was by far the most insufferable decoy the Emperor has every employed."

Iris's eyes widen in horror when she sees Maro standing atop the tower across the bridge.

"I'm glad he's dead. But I'm even happier that you killed him," Maro sneers.

It was a trap. They knew about the assassination all along. Her insides tumble, and she wishes Lucien hadn't disappeared on her.

Maro clasps his hands behind his back, glaring down at her. "You, an assassin for the Dark Brotherhood, have just made an attempt on the Emperor's life." He chuckles. "Would have succeeded had it been the real man."

Iris opens her mouth to retort, but he beats her to it.

"Surprised? So, was I when a member of your Family came to me with the plan. We worked out a deal, you see. An exchange. I get you, and the Dark Brotherhood gets to continue its existence."

Her blood runs cold at his words. "You're lying." Her Family would never do that…right?

Maro laughs again and shrugs. "You know I'm not. And you know what else? I've changed my mind. How about this? I kill you and butcher each and everyone of your miserable little friends?"

"No!"

"Your Sanctuary's being put to the sword right now. That's what I think of this deal." His expression hardens, his mouth twisting. "You killed my son! All of you! And now you'll pay the price."

Iris grips the hilt of her sword, tasting violence in the air.

Maro addresses the guards. "Kill her. And make sure there's nothing left to bury."

Shocked, Iris summons flames to her free hand and rips her sword from its sheath as the guards approach her.

"Lucien! I could use your help right about now!" she shouts, widening her stance.

She parries the first guard's blow with ease, blasting flames in his face. He cries out in pain and falls to the ground as the other three guards charge. They surround her, and she struggles not to feel overwhelmed.

"Lucien, I need you!"

She manages to block each one of the guards' attacks, but she only has one sword. While her back is turned, one of the guards' swords slashes her arm. She gasps in pain, warm blood soaking her arm.

"Lucien, where the fuck are you?!" she screams, growing tired.

Finally, a blast of light explodes right in front of her, and the damned ghost appears.

"Took you long enough!" Iris pants, parrying yet another blow.

Lucien rolls his eyes before brandishing his blade. "I thought you were the all-powerful Dovahkiin." He stabs one of the guards in the back, and he slumps to the ground, dead.

One of the remaining guards raises his sword to strike, but she blocks it. "I haven't absorbed a soul in a while," Iris explains, straining against their crossed blades. She scoffs at herself before blasting flames in the guard's face. His screech is cut off by Lucien's blade in his throat.

Lucien only hums in reply to her explanation and gestures to the last guard. "He's all yours."

Annoyed at the ghost, Iris sheathes her weapon and stalks toward the guard. The guard's eyebrows knit in confusion, but he keeps his blade up. The flames vanish from her hands as she stands a couple feet away from him. She turns slightly to look at Lucien behind her.

"I'm doing this for you." Then, she turns back to the guards, takes a deep breath, and Shouts. " _Fus ro dah_!"

The guard is flung backward, hitting the stone railing of the bridge before plummeting down to the unforgiving ground below.

Iris turns toward Lucien, a small smirk on her face.

"And you said you don't enjoy murder," Lucien purrs, wiping the smile off her face.

"Did you hear what Maro said?" she asks, looking toward the now empty tower where Maro was standing.

The ghost bows his head. "I did. We need to hurry to the Sanctuary."

* * *

Swiping the tears from her eyes, Iris kills the last Penitus Oculatus agent outside the burning Sanctuary. She takes a shuddering breath before approaching the burnt corpse affixed to a tree.

"Oh, Gods—" She falls to her knees. It's Festus.

"Listener, you must keep going," Lucien says from behind her.

"I can't—Why would they do this?" Iris chokes out through her sobs.

"Keep going. Other members of your Family may still be alive."

Iris gets to her feet, nodding and wiping the tears away. "Okay."

She sneaks into the Sanctuary, the fire's heat drying her tears.

"Which one was the rat?" she hears a voice ask.

She hugs the wall, staying hidden.

"Dunno. One of these corpses."

 _Corpses_?!

"Does it matter?"

The flames shoot to her hands without her summoning them as she jumps out from her hiding place. She stabs the first agent in the heart with her dagger while blasting flames at the other one. When the first agent falls to the ground, she whirls around and slits the other agent's throat. Burnt corpses litter the ground. Burnt beyond recognition. How many of them are her Family?

She continues through the collapsing hide-out when she hears animalistic growls. She races to the bottom of the stairs and finds Arnbjorn in his werewolf form fighting the Penitus Oculatus agents. She runs to help him, gripping her sword in a vice-grip. But before she can reach her Brother, a sword finds itself embedded in his chest.

"No!" Her Voice rumbles the ground and catches the Penitus Oculatus agents' attention.

She is a flurry of blades and fire. She spins around, striking each one of them with flames and her sword, fueled by rage. They lie dead in less than a minute. She hurries to Arnbjorn, praying he's still alive. But when she reaches his werewolf form, she finds an enormous pool of blood around him and has to accept the truth. He's dead. Just like Festus and who knows who else.

She straightens up, her back stiffened with rage, and continues searching the building for survivors. She climbs the stairs past the Word Wall to the quarters, her sword at the ready.

"No—" Her heart drops into her stomach, her vision blurring with fresh tears. "Veezara, no!"

He lies on the ground in front of his bed, his eyes open but unseeing.

Iris crouches down at his side, cradling his head. "I'm so sorry, Veezara." The tears won't stop, especially not when she notices Gabriella's body laying a few feet away. Veezara was her first friend here. He was the only one who made her feel welcome when she first joined. He was always there for her no matter what. She told him almost more than she used to tell Bryn. And now…

Stifling her cries, she gently closes his eyes. "Gods bless your soul, Veezara," she whispers, setting him back on the ground. She needs to see if anyone else is alive. "I'll be back for you," she tells the Argonian. "You all deserve a proper burial." Sniffing, she gets to her feet and takes a deep breath.

Suddenly, the distinct sound of metal on metal reaches her ears. Swords clashing.

She runs toward the sound, heading into the dining room. She almost starts crying again when she sees Nazir fighting off a Penitus Oculatus agent. She races up the stairs, desperate to stop a repeat of Arnbjorn. She runs up behind the agent and stabs him in the back before he even notices she's there.

"Thank the Gods," she cries, slouching in exhaustion. "You're alive."

"So are you," Nazir says, sheathing his curved sword. "I was starting to wonder."

"The Emperor…it was all a trap, Nazir," she pants. "Someone set us up."

"Considering most of us are now dead, I assumed as much."

"Gods, did you see what they did to Festus? And Arnbjorn—"

"We can't get hung up on that now. We need to get out of here."

"Veezara—" A sob wracks her body.

"Iris." Nazir places a hand on her trembling arm. "We need to go. You can't let it all get to you now. Wait until we're out of this. Come on!"

As if on cue, a piece of the ceiling collapses behind them.

"This place is coming down! We need to get out now!" Nazir cries.

He sprints off in the other direction, Iris in tow. Explosions rumble the ground as the foundation quakes. They race into the Night Mother room only to find the exit blocked by debris.

"Damn it!" Nazir curses. "There has to be another way out of here!"

" _Listener…_ "

With a quiet gasp, Iris turns toward the Night Mother's casket.

" _I am your only salvation._ _Come. Embrace me._ "

As if in a trance, Iris moves toward the casket.

"I think I can shift some of these rocks—"

" _Come._ "

The Listener reaches the coffin and climbs inside, the panel closing behind her. Nothing but darkness reaches her eyes as she huddles against the corpse. Another explosion rattles throughout the Sanctuary, this one sounding even closer. Trembling, Iris squeezes her eyes shut, willing for it all to be over. Suddenly, an enormous explosion shakes the ground in front of the coffin. The sound of glass shattering reaches her eyes as the casket goes airborne. Before it meets the ground in a painful collision, the Night Mother's voice echoes through her mind again.

" _Sleep._ "

And sleep she does.

* * *

 **:(** **Poor Iris...losing all her newfound, murderous friends.**

 **And what's up with Bryn creepily hiding in her house? I know he wants to talk to her, but that's kind of weird, right? LOL**

 **Thanks so much for reading! As always, please favorite, follow, and review! :)**


	39. Chapter 38

**Here we go. Poor Iris :(**

* * *

"Hurry, Nazir! I'm telling you, she's in there!"

A groan escapes Iris's lips as she comes to. Her eyes flutter open but meet nothing but darkness. Where is she?

"I'm going…as fast…as I can! I don't see you…helping!"

A thud echoes throughout her dark prison as the memories come flooding back to her.

The Penitus Oculatis.

The Sanctuary.

The Night Mother's coffin.

Claustrophobia slams into her as her breaths shorten.

"I'm not exactly built for manual labor." It's Babette. "Now, come on. You're almost got it."

Iris tries to call out to them, but her voice gets stuck in her throat. All she wants is to get out of here. Her body is hyperaware of the Night Mother's skeleton pressing down on top of her.

"One more…pull. There!"

Iris lets out a shriek when the coffin flips over, the Night Mother's bones prodding her ribs as she lands on top of it.

"Can you get it open?"

A glow fills the small space, and Iris finds herself much too close to the corpse's face.

" _You must speak with Astrid. Here, in the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary._ "

She nods in silence, covering her face.

Light streams into the coffin as the lid opens, revealing Nazir and Babette standing over her. Desperate to distance herself from the skeleton, she tries to launch herself out of the coffin. But the pain in her side stops her.

"Whoa, whoa, slow down," Nazir says, reaching down to grab her hand. "It's alright. You've been through a lot. Let me help you out of there."

"Astrid," she chokes out.

He frowns at her as he pulls her out of the coffin.

"Maybe you should sit down for a bit."

Iris shakes her head. "I have to speak with Astrid. She's here in the Sanctuary." Doesn't he understand how important this is?

"What?"

"Follow me." Ignoring the pain, Iris limps upstairs to Astrid's quarters. She hears the two whispering behind her, but she doesn't care.

"Do you think she hit her head?"

Stepping into the destroyed room, Iris studies every charred surface, knowing Astrid is here somewhere.

There.

She steps over a fallen bookshelf to find a secret passage behind a dresser. She squeezes through the space…

And gasps at what she sees.

Astrid lies on the ground, candles surrounding her burnt body, a dagger clutched in her hand. Her skin blisters and is raw in multiple places. She's nearly burnt beyond recognition, but somehow, still alive.

"Iris…you're alive…Thank Sithis," she wheezes out.

"Astrid…"

"Shh…please. There is much I have to say…and not much time."

Iris hears Nazir and Babette's shocked gasps behind her and kneels by Astrid's side, soaking in her every word.

"I'm sorry. So very sorry. The Penitus Oculatus…Maro…" Astrid takes a shuddering breath, tears in her eyes. "He said that by giving you to them, he'd leave the Dark Brotherhood alone. Forever." She shuts her eyes, a pained gasp wracking her mangled body. "I was such a fool. All of this…it's all my fault." Her eyes reopen, focusing on Iris's violet. "You're the best of us, and I nearly killed you…as I've killed everyone else."

Iris never thought she'd see Astrid upset, let alone cry. She'd feel sorry for Astrid if she wasn't so enraged by her confession.

"You—You sent me to die," she realizes. "You told me to escape through that door so they'd kill me."

"Yes. I set you up. I wanted you dead. I betrayed you, the Night Mother, and everything I hold dear. And now…Maro has betrayed me." She takes another breath, pain evident in her face. "I just wanted things…to stay the way they were. Before Cicero, before the Night Mother, before…you. I thought I could save us. I was wrong." Her tongue pokes out to lick her burnt lips. "But you're alive, so there's still a chance. To start over, rebuild. That's why I did…this. Don't you see? I prayed to the Night Mother. I am the Black Sacrament."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you were right. The Night Mother was right. The old ways…they guided the Dark Brotherhood for centuries. I was a fool to oppose them. And to prove my sincerity, I've prayed for a contract. You lead this Family now. I give you the Blade of Woe so that you can see it through." She takes another breath, a tear dripping down her cheek. "You must kill me."

Iris's eyes fill with tears as she shakes her head. "No. I can't."

Astrid drops the dagger, but Iris doesn't touch it.

"I can't kill you."

"Iris."

She looks up to find Nazir offering her the dagger. "Astrid did the right thing. Now, it's your turn. End her suffering."

"I can't do it," Iris says, her tears overflowing.

Even though Astrid lied to her and sent her to her death, Iris can't help but mourn the loss of her friend. She thought they were friends. Astrid was like a mother figure to her. And now everyone's expecting her to kill one of the only people who made her feel welcome here?

"You have to."

Iris looks back to Astrid at her wheezed words.

"Please."

Iris shuts her eyes, her tears falling to the ground. When she reopens them, she nods.

"Okay." She takes the dagger from Nazir and sits up on her knees in front of Astrid.

She poises the dagger with shaking hands over Astrid's heart, wanting to make it as quick and painless as possible.

"I forgive you," she whispers.

A tear escapes Astrid's eye as she shuts them.

Before she can stop herself, Iris plunges the dagger down, right into Astrid's heart.

Astrid's eyes widen and lock on hers. But, with her last breath, directs her words at Iris.

"Thank…you…"

Then her face slackens as her whole body goes limp.

Iris drops the bloody dagger, disgusted with what she just had to do.

"By the sands, I can't wrap my head around it," Nazir mutters.

Iris gets to her feet with difficulty and ignores Nazir and Babette as she stumbles back to the Night Mother.

The Night Mother starts speaking before she gets there. " _Astrid is dead. It is as it should be. May she find redemption in the Void._ "

"How could you make me do that?!" Iris cries, clutching her side.

" _It was Sithis' will. But that is not all. While you live, the Dark Brotherhood lives. We must fulfill our contract. Emperor Titus Mede II must be eliminated."_

"What? Still?" Iris bursts out. "Even after all of this?"

" _Speak with Amaund Motierre at the Bannered Mare in Whiterun. He will know the true Emperor's location. But first, inform Nazir of your plans. For you are the Listener and must bind this Family together._ "

With that, the Night Mother falls silent. Swiping at the tears on her face and struggling not to dwell on everything that's happened, Iris climbs back up the stairs to talk to Nazir.

"Iris—"

"The Night Mother said we still have to kill the Emperor," she cuts him off, too exhausted and overwhelmed to listen to him. "There's a man in Whiterun who knows where the real Emperor is." Without waiting for a response, she brushes past him, meaning to start the journey to Whiterun.

"Iris, wait."

She meets his gaze to find him studying her in worry.

"Maybe you should take a break first. Go home. Rest for a few days." She didn't realize how unkempt he looked too. Smoke stains his face, his eyes reddened, and his normally pristine clothes disheveled. Babette even looks like she's been to Oblivion and back. She can't imagine what she must look like.

She sighs and glances at the ground, regretting it when she finds a burnt corpse a few feet away. Bile rises in her throat, and she blinks back more tears.

"He's right," Babette speaks up. "We have to find somewhere else to stay anyway. Probably Dawnstar."

"Fine," Iris whispers.

"Wait." Babette goes to her, holding something in her hands. "Here."

"I don't want that." She swallows more bile when she sees the bloody Blade of Woe in the vampire's hands.

"It's a exceptional weapon. Astrid meant for you to keep it."

She wipes away more tears as she accepts the dagger. She tucks it into her bag and gives the remnants of the Dark Brotherhood a tight smile before heading out the door, intending to travel to the place she hasn't been in months.

Riften.

* * *

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea," Brynjolf mutters to himself, standing up and facing Iris's bed. He's only been at her house for half an hour, but he feels strange. Honestly, he feels like he's being creepy by invading her space and waiting to jump her. Upon second thought, he doesn't think she'd take it too well. He hasn't spoken to her in over a month, and his first words would be used to accuse her of stealing the Skeleton Key?

He groans, rubbing his eyes. "What was I thinking?" He turns on his heel, heading to the door when he hears voices coming from the back door. Panicking, he dashes down the stairs to the cellar, hiding underneath the stairs just as the door opens.

"Oh, Gods." It's Iris. And she's crying. No, not crying. Weeping. Weeping like she's just lost the thing that matters most to her. He used to think it was him. Funny how things change.

"Listener, I may be dead, but even I know if you keep breathing like that, you will hyperventilate."

Brynjolf freezes at the smooth, masculine voice. Who the fuck is that?! Is that why she's been gone? She's run off with another man?! Hurt and jealousy fills his heart, a toxic mixture. He wants to run far away from here but can't unless he wants Iris to see him.

He hears her mattress dip down along with Iris's heartbreaking cries.

"I can't do this anymore, Lucien. I can't."

"The Night Mother's wishes must be obeyed," the smooth voice says, Lucien. "You know that, Listener."

Listener?

"I know. I just…" Iris breaks off in sobs. "They murdered my Family, Lucien."

Brynjolf's brow furrows in confusion. What is she talking about? He thought the Guild was her family.

"Yes. And there's still the matter of the Emperor."

Iris sniffles. "I know."

Silence falls across the two, and Brynjolf wonders if they've left. But Iris's occasional cries tell him otherwise.

"In my time, my Family was slaughtered, too," Lucien says. "There was a traitor in our midst. We were forced to perform a Purification."

"That's horrible." Iris sighs, beginning to weep once more. "I just can't believe Astrid set me up. Every time I close my eyes, I see her lying there and—"

Brynjolf wants to go to her, embrace her, let her cry on his shoulder. But he can't.

"I can't murder the Emperor, Lucien. I can't do it. I'm not a murderer."

What the fuck?! The red haired thief rubs his ears, unsure of what he just heard. Murder? The Emperor?!

Her companion lets out an eerie laugh. "Yes, you are. It's in your bones. Your very soul. You were chosen as Listener for a reason. And it matters not whether you want to do it or not. Sithis' will must be done."

Sithis. He only knows of one group who worships the taboo deity. But his dear Iris, his sweet, innocent Iris can't possibly be involved. No. Iris Liriiette would never join the Dark Brotherhood.

"You're horrible at comforting people, you know," Iris says with a sniffle.

Lucien chuckles, sending a shiver down Brynjolf's spine.

"In my defense, even when I was alive, I wasn't much of a people person. Psychopathic tendencies and all."

"I'm not a psychopath."

"I never said you were, Listener."

Brynjolf bristles, wondering how in Oblivion Iris came to form a relationship with a Dark Brotherhood psychopath. They always talked about how much they disliked the Brotherhood and how much they disagreed with the Brotherhood's whole mindset. Iris said she could never kill someone in cold blood. And now she holds a position in the Dark Brotherhood? Not to mention, she hasn't been to the Guild in months, and she's supposed to be the new Guild Master. She chose the Dark Brotherhood, a cult of murderers, over her first family. The first place she felt welcome. She told him that she'd never felt more at home than when she was at the Guild. And now? He doesn't even recognize her.

"How did you die?" Iris breaks the silence.

What?

"It's a gruesome tale. Perhaps for another time. It would not, ah, comfort you."

Iris lets out a forced laugh. "I'm already upset, Lucien. The whole Sanctuary was attacked and my Family murdered. Might as well tell me now because it can't get much worse."

"Very well." Lucien takes a deep breath. "Like I said before, there was a traitor in the Brotherhood. However, no one knew who it was. Unfortunately, we had to perform a Purification, which means we had to kill everyone in the Sanctuary."

"Why not investigate who the traitor was?"

"It wasn't that simple. I had someone who was investigating but even she could not figure out who it was. She performed the Purification and assassinated everyone in the Brotherhood. It was truly morbid. I named her Silencer and proceeded to give her contracts via dead drops. She did excellently until the last contract. She was to travel to Bravil and kill a Wood Elf. I realized Ungolim was actually a member of the Black Hand and that the Silencer killed him. I managed to intercept her as I thought she was a traitor. But, much like Astrid had done to you, we discovered we were being set up. Every dead drop since the Purification was false. The Silencer had been killing members of the Black Hand."

Iris lets out a gasp. "Oh no. They thought you were the traitor, didn't they?"

"Yes. I told the Silencer to intercept the next delivery and discover the real traitor. She was to meet me at a cottage at the edge of the forest when she was finished. However—"

"The Black Hand found you first?"

"I was not afraid of death, but they did not give it to me mercifully. I was mutilated, strung up by meat hooks, and tortured until death. I later found out the traitor was the son of a woman I had murdered for a contract a long time ago. He lost his mind to insanity and even kept his mother's severed head. He wanted revenge. Ah, but the new Speaker slaughtered Mathieu Bellamont and became Listener."

"Gods. I'm so sorry."

"It was a very long time ago."

The pair fall back into silence as Brynjolf's mind spins.

Is she talking to…a ghost?

"What troubles you, Listener?"

"It's nothing," Iris mutters. "You wouldn't understand anyway."

"A generalization. Tell me."

"I don't know." Iris sighs, and Brynjolf knows she's on the brink of tears again. "I just…I don't have anyone anymore." She bursts out into heartbreaking sobs. "Y–You know my best friend lives here? In Riften? Or ex-best friend, I don't know."

Brynjolf's heart clenches.

"I haven't spoken to him in over a month. I'm–I'm afraid of what he'll think of me." She can barely get the words out past her cries. It breaks him. "And it's been so long, I feel like there's no good time to speak with him again. And I–I…I just miss him. But I think he h–hates me. Or thinks I'm dead. I–I shouldn't do that to him. Not again. Not after everything." She takes a shaky breath.

"This is the one you didn't want to tell that you're in the Dark Brotherhood?"

"Yes. He would be disgusted with me. He would hate me. And I can't bear that. I couldn't handle it."

"Thus, you've been avoiding him."

He imagines she nods.

"Everything in its time."

Iris sniffles. "Thank you, Lucien, for everything."

"It is my duty to as Speaker to serve the Listener," Lucien replies.

"I'd like some time to myself, if you wouldn't mind."

"Of course. Call upon me when you next need me."

Brynjolf hears a whoosh and assumes Lucien has disappeared. He must be a ghost.

"I'm sorry, Bryn."

He freezes, thinking he's been discovered. But Iris doesn't descend the stairs. She begins crying in earnest, and he realizes the apology wasn't intended for him to actually hear.

He waits to see if she speaks anymore, but he hears nothing but her breathing and occasional cries.

Eventually, her breaths even out, and Brynjolf knows she has fallen asleep.

He slips out the door to the dark streets, his mind racing. He'll let her sleep for now, but he needs to speak to her. He needs to hear the truth from her own lips. He needs to know why she's in the Dark Brotherhood and why she stole the Skeleton Key. Tomorrow, he'll go to her house first thing in the morning. He'll finally confront her after not speaking to her or hearing from her for a month. He'll finally know the truth.

Tomorrow.

* * *

 **Someone seemed pretty jealous... 0_0**

 **What do you think will happen when Bryn finally confronts Iris about everything?**

 **And poor Iris, how do you think she'll handle everything that's happened to her?**

 **Let me know in a review! And as always, don't forget to favorite and follow! :)**


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